Falling Again
by Trygvasson
Summary: Updated: this is no longer a oneshot but a retelling of Thor Ragnarok where Loki has some...issues. Starting with a fear of falling.
1. Chapter 1

He was falling.

Again.

No, scratch that. "Again" was impossible...impermissible.

He was falling... still?

Loki shuddered and screwed his eyes shut against the blackness.

He was falling.

That was all that mattered. That was all he knew.

* * *

"I suppose I'll need my brother back," Thor said, turning back to the Midgardian sorcerer.

"Oh, yeah. I had almost forgotten." An orange circle appeared unceremoniously in the ceiling, and Loki fell out of it like a stone. His feet struck the floor, and his legs folded inelegantly beneath him. He crumpled onto his back and lay motionless. He might have seemed dead if not for his firmly clenched eyes and jaws and, well, the fact that it was Loki.

Thor rolled his eyes, praying silently for patience. "Get up, Brother. I know where to go." Loki made no move. "Loki, get up." Still no response. Thor glanced up at Dr. Strange, who shrugged, looking perplexed. That was alright then. Thor hadn't really expected the human to have done anything untowards, so this was probably just Loki being... Loki. He trudged over and nudged Loki in the ribs. "Come _on!"_

Loki's eyes opened a crack, and his breath exploded out of him only to arrest again as he shuddered, almost as if in pain. Somewhat concerned, Thor knelt down. "Uh, Loki?"

"Who's there?" Loki whispered, eyes opening wide and dilated and unfocused. Confused.

Thor stared back at him, but he couldn't figure out what the game was. "It's Thor."

" _Thor?_ " Loki squinted at him and blinked his eyes a few times. His face relaxed. "An illusion," he sighed, closing his eyes again.

Annoyed now, Thor poked him in the chest. Loki's eyes flew open. "Thor?! You shouldn't be here. Get out!"

"Loki, what _are_ you talking about?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm a fool, Thor! I'm a fool. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let go." Tears leaked from his eyes, and his body shuddered again. _I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm a fool... Loki's voice became fainter as his blood leaked over Thor's hands, but his eyes were now changed from anger and fear to love and peace, his clenched muscles relaxing, his fair skin graying... his lifeforce fading..._ But that had been an illusion. A fit of ego even, judging by the bizarre performance back in Asgard. So, _what_ was this?

Besides something they didn't have time for. "Loki, just... get up. We have to find Odin."

"I can't. You must leave me behind, Brother. I'm lost. My body is broken, my skull is cracked, and I bleed into my belly. I am buried alive in a tomb of tumbled rock, and they're coming for me." His breath caught. "They're coming. I hear them. They're coming. They're coming. They're almost here."

" _What?_ "

"Interesting. He seems to be hallucinating. I think he's having a panic attack," Dr. Strange observed from above.

"So what do we do?" Thor asked, at a loss. This had never happened before. Loki didn't panic.

"Who's there?" Loki wheezed. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Leave me, Thor! I'm stuck and you can't reach me. There is nothing you can do before they come for me. _Don't_ let them take you too! Go! Go! _GO!_ "

"Loki, you're fine, and I'm right here." He picked up Loki's hand, to Loki's clear and utter shock. Loki stared silently at his own limp hand held loosely in Thor's. Slowly he curled his fingers into a fist and opened them again, as if amazed they could move. He moved his other hand, then his feet, then lifted his head slightly to gape around the perfectly ordinary room. He sat up suddenly and wrapped his arms tightly around Thor, clinging to him as if his life depended on it. A single sob escaped him and was abruptly cut off. His vise-grip loosened, but Thor caught him in his own embrace. "I've got you, Loki. We're safe, in New York..."

"Where were you?" Strange asked, crouching down next to them.

"I don't want to talk about it," came the muffled reply.

"Be silent. _You_ did this!" Thor accused the sorcerer.

"I did not!" Thor glared at him. "Um, what I mean is, I just... caught him. I didn't _do_ anything. He was just falling."

"Falling," Loki agreed. "I shouldn't have let go." _Of the Bifrost. Of Gungnir._ When Loki was apologizing, that's what he was talking about, Thor realized.

"He's fallen before," Thor said softly.

Strange studied them. "Fallen into a veritable den of wolves, it seems. I am sorry, Loki, Thor. I would not have done that had I known this would happen."

Loki finally straightened and turned flat, angry eyes on the human. " _Forget this, mortal_ ," he snarled. He stood up, dragging Thor up with him. "Let's go."

* * *

Two brothers walked across a chilly moor, looking for an old, old god fallen down to Earth to die. "Uh, Loki," Thor ventured, "are you well now?"

Loki paused, considering, not looking at him. He shrugged. "Well enough."

"Back there, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I was... vexed with you. I should not have let Doctor Strange keep you for so long, and I should have realized sooner that something was wrong when you were back."

"Should you?"

"Yes, damn it! You were pale, and pained, and immobilized from the start!"

"Was I? I guess you are right. You should have noticed. Why didn't you?"

"I... I... You have tricked me too many times, Loki. I promised myself I wouldn't be fooled again, and now I guess I just expect tricks from you."

Loki looked up at him, irritation flashing across his face. "When was the last time you remember me playing the _victim?_ "

Thor raised one eyebrow. "When you faked your death on Svartalfheim, only to return to Asgard in secret to take our father's place."

Loki looked away and started walking again. "That wasn't all acting, you know," he said softly.

"Sounds like the apology was real," Thor said thoughtfully. "You repeated it today."

A smile ghosted across Loki's cheeks. "The injury was real as well. But I suppose you wouldn't believe me even if I showed you the scar."

Thor stopped him. "Look, Loki, _I'm_ trying to apologize now! Just give it up. I don't mind that you lied to me then, but please don't do it now."

Loki glared at him. "I'm telling the truth this time."

"Oh, really? Well then, enlighten me, Trickster! How did you survive _actually_ being impaled and left to die in the desert?"

"One of Odin's tricks this time. The Sleep of the Living Dead. Odinsleep." He grinned. "Lokisleep."

"But... Odin's the only one who can _do_ that."

"He's not the only one who _can_ , just the only one who is willing to risk it, generally, because he is so innately powerful. The spell let's you borrow enough energy from future you to accomplish something massive in the present. The more you borrow, the longer you sleep afterwards, and if you borrow too much, then obviously you just wither away and die. I was clever. I used it to cast a sufficiently powerful healing spell to reverse the injury. And then I just slept while you were running around with your woman. I am glad I managed to make it back to Asgard before you, at least..."

Thor was aghast. "You're telling me you deliberately rendered yourself into a comatose state without telling me, knowing full well I would have to leave you for dead in the desert on _Svartalfheim?!"_

"It's better than dying."

"But you could have TOLD me, idiot!"

Loki chuckled. "I wanted to be free as well as alive. Idiot-er."

"That was so reckless. You could have _actually_ died! There's a reason Mother used to watch Odin so carefully when he did it."

"It was a gamble," Loki agreed. "Now drop it."

"For now," Thor huffed. "But only because we have to find Odin. I'm not done with you, Loki. I want to know exactly what happened to you when you fell from the Bifrost that made you so terrified too."

"Oh, Bor's baggy pants, Thor, why do you care?"

"Because you were hurt, and I don't want you to be hurt. I don't want you to be a menace to society, but I definitely don't want you to be hurt, either."

Loki didn't answer, merely pointed ahead of them. Thor followed his gesture. There was Odin, standing on the edge of the cliff, gazing out over a gray sea.

Well, they would have to finish this discussion another time.

 **Author's Note: it seems like if anyone should have a fear of falling, it's Loki. To answer your question, no this is not going to become a longer story.**

 ****Alarmingly cheerful voiceover** If you liked "Falling Again," why not try some of my other stories featuring the tribulations of Loki, God of Mischief?! And don't forget to leave a review, always glad to hear from valued readers... **end alarmingly cheerful voiceover****


	2. Chapter 2

**Back by popular demand! Let's get to it.**

He was falling again.

This was something Loki consciously resigned himself to, determinedly biting back the angry tongue of anxiety that flared up as soon as Hela kicked him from the relative surety of the Bifrost. He should never have summoned it in the first place since it gave Hela instant access to Asgard, but faced with a deadly opponent he knew neither he nor Thor could defeat, Loki had yet again panicked. _Now_ was not the time for another panic attack. At least he could _see_ as he was pulled almost immediately into a rift in space, appearing moments later perilously high in the sky of a completely alien world. A vast city spread below him, and he plummeted towards one of the shanty towns at the edge of the metropolis. Loki pulled every spark of power to him and flung it at the ground, cushioning his fall enough for him to roll into a crouch.

He immediately skittered into the nearest shadow and folded his legs tight against his chest.

Hiding.

He breathed.

* * *

After an hour of breathing, Loki decided it was probably time to look around and find out where he was. And find out whether Thor was also nearby.

After another hour, he finally uncurled and slipped out into the twilight. By morning, he had discovered he was on Sakaar, the literal waste heap of the universe. Thor was nowhere nearby, at least not that Loki could sense or that any of the locals had noticed. Moreover, he discovered he was in peril. So were all newcomers on Sakaar. The entire population was officially imprisoned and enslaved by an ancient being called the Grandmaster, with the exception of his personal "friends." As far as Loki could tell, the Grandmaster was either the god of hedonism or some fallen Power so perverted by time he no longer attended to any celestial duty, only his own pleasures. The Grandmaster was exactly the sort of creature Loki had sought to _avoid_ by faking his own death and returning to Asgard to install himself as king.

Loki _needed_ a sense of security _and_ a sense of freedom like he needed air. Maybe more than he needed air, all things considered. The only question was how to get it on this dunghill of a planet.

It was with a full illusion shrouding him to hide shaking hands, tremulous voice, and tattered clothing that Loki introduced himself to the Grandmaster two days later, beginning the unenviable and arduous task of ingratiating himself with an all-powerful psychopath. Again.

He walked a knife's edge, because he had to. As a sycophant, Loki would live or die at the Grandmaster's pleasure with only the slimmest chance of escape. That chance was everything. As anything other than a sycophant, his entire existence would become a wish to die. He might become fodder for the arena, fighting desperately for a miserable life until someone else finally snuffed him out. More likely, he would be put to use for his magical abilities, bleeding himself dry every day for the amusement of Sakaar until his body rebelled against the abuse and he succumbed to the Sorcerer's Malady, his magic forced inward to consume him... Or he might be made an Example, one of those unfortunates randomly selected to display the torment and death awaiting any who irked the Grandmaster too much. Or he might be relegated to a work crew to eke out a life of poverty and abuse until he died of starvation. Or he might be selected for service as an Enforcer, saving his own body to torment those beneath him, for a time... that was probably the worst, actually, an activity his fragile psyche could no longer tolerate even for a short time... No. Loki had weathered that existence, that wish-to-die before. He still had the scars and suffered the invisible wounds of a year of perdition. He did not want to try it again. He would rather die. Or _live_.

So he wore a smiling, physically attractive, witty, and articulate illusion, and played the sycophant. For now. A beautiful illusion that hid his fear and trembling. Hid his sleepless nights and waking nightmares. Hid his flinch every time anyone touched him, no matter how innocently.

He had disguised himself as Odin for over a year. Disguising himself as himself was easy.

Three weeks later, Thor finally, finally arrived, and with him, hope for a reprieve.

 **Author's note: this story is still taking shape, since it was originally supposed to be a one-off. But hey, evidence I listen to requests, right? As you can tell, I am going to be skipping around a lot, because this is a story about living with severe anxiety and a panic disorder, not about The Plot per se. Disclaimer, I don't actually have a panic disorder, so sorry ahead of time for errors in the depiction. Also, needless to say, trigger warning.**


	3. Chapter 3

Loki drank a last toast and slipped out of the party just as it started to degenerate entirely in a sea of drunkenness, and the unconscious pressure of the Grandmaster's buoyant mood started to build throughout the room. That was the most dangerous time on Sakaar - the frivolity could mutate dangerously quickly to simple licentiousness or indiscriminate slaughter, all depending on the whims of the Grandmaster. There was no way to predict how the night would end, but for the first time since he had joined the Grandmaster's entourage, Loki didn't care what happened next. He just preferred not to stick around to discover whether he would need to fight his way out.

He was not alone any more. Thor was near, someone so unimaginative even the insidious thoughts of the Grandmaster couldn't possibly corrupt his single-mindedness. Thor was an idiot, but he was also Loki's means to freedom.

He sat on the floor in a darkened room, and breathed deep. His heart quickened with anticipation rather than anxiety. His escape was so close, Loki could practically taste it.

Thor was life. He was counting the _minutes_ until he could find Thor and start planning.

...What a pathetic life he had been reduced to.

He listened for a moment to the throb of the party echoing through the walls, hating it for its careless noise. He slowly stood up and staggered to bed.

* * *

Put on a happy face.

Given the degree to which Loki had loaded all his fragile hopes onto Thor's presence in the hours since his brother had arrived, he was devastated to discover that far from viewing Loki as a much-needed ally, Thor was angry with him. Loki managed not to shudder as a pebble flared into his abdomen, then bounced off the wall behind him. The sight, the _thought_ , of even illusory... bodily violation somehow managed to cause physical pain. And here he had hoped Thor would be happy to see him. His illusion smiled weakly at Thor even as his real body broke into a cold sweat. "I mean, you don't really expect me to come and see you, do you? This place is disgusting," Loki laughed.

Thor threw another rock through his insubstantial chest, saying nothing.

"Does this mean you don't want my help? I couldn't jeopardize my position with the Grandmaster. It took me time to gain his trust. He's a lunatic, but he can be amenable." Thor tossed another rock, which Loki duly ignored. "What I'm telling you is you could join me at the Grandmaster's side. Perhaps in time, an accident befalls the Grandmaster and then..." _Escape_. He didn't say it though, just gestured. Thor. Loki. Gone. Into thin air.

Into ignominy.

And safety.

Thor threw another rock through his cheek. The far-distant real Loki jerked backwards as if struck. The illusory Loki sighed. "What do you want, Thor? For me to say to the Grandmaster, 'Ah, yes. This here is my brother Thor, Crown Prince, now rightful King of Asgard! I demand you release him at once.' Yes, I'm sure that would go down very well indeed."

"Ah..." Thor finally developed an expression, but Loki bouldered on, venting his frustration.

"'Demand?' he would say. 'Request,' I would demur. And then... 'Request denied.' Then I would almost certainly end up a prisoner as well, whether in here with you or both of us kept as slightly more exalted _royal_ hostages, which would not be a substantial improvement, I'll have you know. That might last at least until the news that Hela managed to conquer our happy home. Then it's back to the arena, with you at least. Probably with me as well."

Loki stared off into the middle distance. Even his false face was brooding, though he didn't know it. He had lost some of his subtle control over the illusion with his constant worrying and betrayed far more than intended of his true state of mind. Still, Thor's mildly guilty expression changed once more to an irritated glare as he waited. "So what _do_ we do then, Brother?" he finally asked.

Loki started, glanced at Thor, then away again. Took a shaky breath. " _We_ don't do anything at the moment, I think, because _you_ would be the undoing of us both. I fully intend to find a way off this planet, preferably with you I suppose, but alone if needed."

" _Loki!"_

"Yes?"

"You can't be thinking of leaving me here! We have to get back to Asgard! We have to stop Hela!"

Loki turned to face him again, expression again delicately neutral except for a disconcerting deadness in the eyes. "I can't help you with that, Thor."

"Damnit, Loki! This is _your_ fault!"

"Is it?"

 _"Yes."_

"You're right. It is my fault. And I am telling you that I can't fix it. If you want to escape under your own power and charge back to rescue Asgard, be my guest. But I'm not coming with you."

Thor stared at him in disbelief, then leaned back, crossing his arms, expression alarmingly shrewd. "Why?"

Loki raised an eyebrow. "You're not just angrily yelling at me. Interesting."

"You're mischievous but not malicious. Usually. And you're not a coward, or at least you didn't use to be. So why?"

Loki looked away. He should answer, probably. But answering was yet another thing he just couldn't do. Not right now. He had kept his own counsel too long, and unfortunately, Thor's determination to return to Asgard had completely crushed his own hopes of a safe retreat. He was tired. He couldn't control his situation, and he was stuck here. He was alone again, and he was not sure how long he could keep this up. His favor with the Grandmaster would only last so long. He let go of the illusion and forced his almost-wince into a smirk when Thor threw one last rock through his fading head.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

He wanted to scream but didn't dare.

Thor wanted to know why?

Well, because he was right. Loki didn't use to be a coward.

Things changed.

 **Author's note: beefing up the Grandmaster character a bit to fit the story. Enjoy it? Leave a review! Not sure when the next update will be.**


	4. Chapter 4

The day Thor arrived on Asgard was a relatively good day. There were only two executions in all of Sakaar. One was a prisoner who tried to escape and was "pardoned from life" seconds after the Grandmaster purchased Thor. The second was a gifted musician who, the Grandmaster informed Loki, had "missed a repeat" in an otherwise flawless performance of a virtuoso sonata Loki did not recognize on an instrument he had never seen before.

The day after Thor arrived was a bad day. The Grandmaster had a hangover. There were ten executions in the morning alone, one gentleman for being "too ugly," one woman for being "too beautiful," one for smiling, two for skipping the party the night before, and five for making "weird eye contact." Another fifteen were seriously injured when a brawl broke out between the cooks and the guards in the afternoon. The fight seemed to amuse the Grandmaster, though, and things settled down considerably in the evening.

The next day, one man had his feet removed because he was "too tall," and one settlement was leveled to make way for a new leisure palace. The Grandmaster was in a buoyant mood.

The day after that, the Grandmaster adopted an entire orphanage full of children (from another planet) after seeing a stray flier blowing through the garbage heaps asking for donations to help match them with orphaned animals and positively squealing at the combined cuteness. He then sent them to live in the lap of luxury at his secondary estate, since he didn't want "a bunch of toddlers running around, getting underfoot, not to mention glimpsing some of the more risquee party games - I can't corrupt babies! Look at this one's innocent little dimples." He continued in that vein through much of the day.

Next came another hangover day for the new adoptive father. It was bad.

It was chaos, no pattern at all. Unpredictable even by Loki's standards.

Considering all the variables, Loki decided not to miss any more parties.

What else could he do?

* * *

Two days later, Loki's nerves were frayed almost to breaking. Every hour, every minute, he wondered when the Grandmaster's interest in him would wane. He dreaded what would come after it inevitably did, whether he would be simply discarded and eventually killed or whether he would be forced into a more personal subservience to wait upon his master's every alarming pleasure. For now, he remained free, or as free as anyone could be on Sakaar. The truth of course was that he was just as bound as anyone else to obey the Grandmaster, not for fear of losing his life, but for fear of losing his modicum of liberty. For now, he had the right to remain himself. He could still refuse to partake in activities that would make him... not himself. Those invitations he was free to refuse seemed to be becoming steadily fewer, however. The options were always clear from the mood in the room.

When the Grandmaster asked if Loki would care to join him in the high box at the Games, Loki had to agree, unfortunately. It was not Thor's match against the Grandmaster's champion he was dreading. Loki wasn't worried about that in the slightest, just vaguely satisfied that his brother was in for a difficult stay on Sakaar as well. He had even joined in the camaraderie and wagered against his brother. Thor might lose and grievously injure both his body and his pride, but he was far too resilient to be killed. The same could not be said for some of the preliminary contests between new, weak captives and either weathered gladiators or vicious beasts.

Loki did not want to watch mortals skewer each other, be mauled and maybe eaten alive. It was too easy to recall himself in similar circumstances - both as the victim and the perpetrator. Too easy to feel hunted, and too easy to feel guilty. Loki was squeamish now. He didn't used to be.

He managed to contain his emotions by ignoring the fights as much as possible in favor of the small talk around him. The Grandmaster seemed to appreciate this, laughing delightedly at every witticism. The delight of the crowd swelled to match. It was very eerie, the influence of the Grandmaster's subconscious. The effect was much more profound than ordinary or even magically-enhanced charisma, and he didn't know how it worked precisely. It made Loki's skin crawl.

Loki could not ignore Thor, though, much as he would have liked to. The rest of the Grandmaster's companions also fell silent as the climax neared.

Then the Hulk arrived, and Loki's forced calm and pleasant demeanor shattered.

 _"I have to get off this planet."_ He could not decide if he wanted to scream, laugh, or cry. _Of course_ the Grandmaster's champion was the Hulk. Why not? In a universe that seemed singularly constructed to make his life difficult, this made perfect sense. The Hulk roared, and Loki shuddered. He couldn't breath. Pain blossomed in his chest, and his vision blurred. Distantly, he heard Thor whooping in delight, and he felt the ominous aura of the Grandmaster's displeasure. It helped him focus, a little. He realized he was standing in front of the Grandmaster, who was talking to him, although Loki had no idea at that moment what the man was saying. That alone galvanized his mind into a frenetic action. He could not afford to lose control like this, not now. In a state of near-panic, he found himself silently shouting a spell no sane person should ever use.

Appropriate, then, since Loki's grasp on sanity was tenuous at best.

A fortress sprang up between him and his magic. It was called auto-puppetry, a perversion of the already pretty damn perverted magic used to usurp the minds of others. The spell took complete control of both his body and further spell-casting, leaving his waking mind completely free, and helpless. His heartbeat slowed, and his shaking stopped. Detached, Loki watched as his body smiled at the Grandmaster and accompanied him back to the long sofa at the front of the box, every crack in his customary illusion seamlessly repaired. Loki watched as a young female offered him a drink and played with his fingers, although disconcertingly, he barely recognized the hand as his own.

Loki watched as the Hulk grabbed Thor by the legs and slammed him into the sands of the arena and felt himself crippled in remembered pain. He tried to scream then, but of course, he had no voice of his own. He was trapped by his own spell, which had apparently determined the most appropriate response was to stand and applaud. He supposed that was true to the illusion he had been sustaining for the past few weeks.

He wasn't sure what the spell would do in these circumstances, unfortunately. Auto-puppetry was created by and for incredibly skilled fools, a way to free the mind from inane affairs in a setting of ceremonial ostentation. There should be strict time and behavioral parameters imposed with auto-stops in the case of anything unexpected. Auto-puppetry was a _bsolutely not intended_ for use in incredibly dangerous and delicate situations, and Loki had imposed no preordained stops at all. He had no idea how long it would last.

Absently, he observed Thor deliver a powerful strike with a borrowed hammer which seemed to enrage the Hulk further, alarmingly. Loki could still see and hear and feel, but only if he tried to. His body was in a state of repose, breathing now ordered, heartbeat regular, pain gone. It was a strange experience, and he was somewhat disturbed to realize how _relieved_ a significant part of him felt at this forced disengagement. Though foolish in the extreme and potentially deadly, it occurred to him the spell was still a desperately-needed break for his strained mind. He therefore forced his thoughts to focus. He counted to thirty...

But Loki couldn't think clearly. There was still too much distracting him to think - fear of the Grandmaster, fear of the Hulk, fear for Thor, fear of Hela, fear for Asgard, fear of Thanos, fear for himself, fear of pain, fear of causing pain, fear of falling, fear of having fallen... Grief. For Odin, and Frigga, and his former life.

 _I want to die._ The thought came suddenly and without equivocation. It gave him pause. That was not the sort of thought he would have had three weeks ago.

 _I want to be safe_. That thought was more accurate, he decided. The problem was that he had run out of ideas. He didn't know where safety lay anymore.

Both thoughts were entirely selfish, he knew.

He didn't think of selfishness as a sin anymore. He used to, although he readily admitted he had still always been a rather selfish person. But he had lived through too much to bother with self-recrimination any more. He was only _alive_ because of his instincts for self-preservation.

There was brightness in his line of sight, and Loki noted with interest that Thor had summoned a ball of lightning to blast the Hulk off of him. An image came to him then. He was lying in Thor's embrace, content, aware that he was probably dying even as a healing spell raced against time to staunch the horrible wound in his abdomen that had punctured his aorta. He was content because if he died, at least the suffering would be over, and his last memory would be of being loved and comforted. And if he survived, he had the chance to be truly alive and free for the first time in two years. With the memory of being loved and comforted.

 _I want to be content_. _I want to live._

It seemed like a long time after he had that thought that the spell finally released him.

By then, the games were over, and Loki was apparently enjoying a glass of pink alcohol with a coterie of other sycophants.

Status quo, then.

Could have been worse.

 _Should_ have been worse.

He had been lucky, but he was sure his luck would soon run its course.

 **Author's note: I'm trying to keep the core plot mostly intact, but certain changes are necessary. Hope you like the new Grandmaster ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

All things considered, Loki liked having a task (he told himself). It was reassuring. An achievable goal, which hopefully would stabilize his precarious position and give him room to think. The fact that his task was hunting down his errant brother and the Green Monstrosity was unfortunate. The fact that the whole reason he _had_ this task was because the Grandmaster was livid at Thor's escape and was lashing out at everyone connected to Thor was unfortunate. It was also unfortunate that he had competition. Thus, when Scrapper 142 left to start her own hunt, he followed her. He needed to succeed just as much, probably more than she did. There was a chance, a slim chance, she might agree to "let him win."

He was grasping at straws, he knew. The Grandmaster was displeased. _Everyone_ needed to win. _Everyone_ was feeling the nagging itch to seek, find, chase, capture, kill, and not necessarily in that order. Most just didn't understand _why_ they were meant to be hunting, or who was their prey for that matter. But still...

"What have you done?" Loki asked in a confident tone as they rounded a corner.

"I don't answer to you, lackey."

He grabbed her wrist. "It's Loki," he met her eyes, gauging her mood. Screw it, he would play the lackey if it would help. "And you will answer to the Grandmaster." He blocked her first three punches but took the last on the chin. He was ready for pain, though. It didn't bother him. Not now.

The Scrapper smirked at him. Irritated, he drew a dagger and changed tactics. "Why would you help my brother escape with that green fool?"

"I don't help anyone," she said. She blocked his slash, and they exchanged a rapid series of blows. Loki paused when his dagger ripped through her sleeve, exposing a very familiar sigil tattooed onto her forearm.

He looked up in surprise. "You're a Valkyrie," he said dumbly. She jerked in his grasp and they exchanged a couple more slashes before she kicked him against the wall. He smiled up at her, as he thought of a way to win. "I thought the Valkyrs all died gruesome deaths."

She shoved a knee into his chest and held her daggerpoint to his neck, eyes suddenly alight with fury. "Choose your next words wisely."

"I'm terribly sorry. It must be a very painful memory." With that, he reached up, the magic at his fingertips plunging into her mind to find her memory of that final massacre:

 _A thousand Valkyrs mounted on winged horses floated in the sunlight before a break in the clouds. Their enemy raised twin swords and wore a crown of spiked horns. It was Hela._

Loki wasn't ready for that at all.

He felt a kick in his side shove him from the roaring rainbow of the bifrost into the cold darkness of open space.

 _The Scrapper rode with her sisters in the attack, ready to meet a flood of swords showering from the Death Goddess' hands. But her horse was struck, and she fell, grounded in a field of corpses but not beaten. The Death Goddess launched another sword straight for her, but she was saved by one of her sisters, who took the blade in her stead, and sent her tumbling backwards out of the battle._

Loki felt himself plummet and, after an age, land not on Sakaar but on a rocky planet at night. The ground broke beneath him, and he was buried in suffocating darkness, every part of him on fire. Instead of swords standing in the armor of the fallen, he saw a jagged carapace clicking towards him in the darkness. And he was stuck. Before he could think, it was on him, scratching at the rocks pinning him down, sharp limbs cutting into his already crushed body. He screamed and struggled. As soon as one broken arm was free, he fought back. He knew this place. He had fallen down here before. He knew what was coming. And it would not happen again. So he fought. Weaponless and heavily injured, he summoned a knife with his thoughts and slashed at the many legs of the thing attacking him. He buried the knife in its side, and it jerked, taking his knife with it. He scratched and punched until he was able to make another. When he was again disarmed and the thing pinned him down, he bit it, though its acid insides burned his lips and blinded him.

He heard a voice, and he knew then that he was done for. The thing he was fighting had no usable mouth. The voice belonged to its master. His master now, for he had lost his chance to escape. He was caught without even being hunted, the quarry of fate.

He remembered this part too. It was all about obedience, or else pain. Loki was a survivor. He went still, because that's what the owner of the voice wanted, as far as he could recall. He stayed limp when something took hold of his leg and dragged him away, because no one had told him to get up and walk. He stayed still and said nothing as heavy chains were wrapped around him. He knew what he was supposed to do, so maybe, if he was compliant, it would be over sooner, this time.

This time, he would obey immediately, and it would be painless. Or else he maybe would die, and he would be content with that.

* * *

It was only after the vision, after she turned around, after she attacked that Valkyrie (she had disowned any other name) realized this Loki character was crazy, not just an unfeeling, manipulative bastard. He had slumped back against the wall and wasn't even looking at her when she pounced on him, but as soon as he felt her weight, he snarled and fought back like a wounded animal. His attacks were wild and desperate, completely different from the efficient and well-trained slashes and parries of a minute ago. He also kept slashing at the air rather than her with his conjured knives. One stab buried the dagger to the hilt in the wall after narrowly missing her cheek. He was far more dangerous now than he had been before, she decided. She straddled him, pinning his arms and legs. He lunged up and actually bit her canteen, which tore open, pouring cheap liquor into his face. It must have been burning his eyes and nose horribly, but he only grunted and kept struggling.

"Oh, by the blood of my sisters just _stop it_ , will you?" She shouted at him. Incredibly, he immediately stilled. He fell back to the floor, eyes closed tight and jaw working, breathing hard but otherwise silent. "Uh, Loki?" He didn't move a muscle. Cautiously, she let go, and he remained limp. She got up and stared down at him.

This was _not_ normal.

She wasn't sure what was going on, and it seemed like a bad idea to just kill him until she found out, even if he did deserve it and was just laying there defenseless.

She could hardly leave him here, though. He might snap out of it and go to the Grandmaster. Plus, Thor might want him if they really were brothers.

She poked him with her toe, but he didn't even look at her, let alone move to get up. Shrugging, she grabbed his ankles and dragged him down the corridor to her apartment. She lugged him into a chair and spent a few minutes chaining him up securely. Amazingly, he continued to offer zero resistance.

She sat back on her heels and studied him, slumped in the chair, hair sticky with drying mead, eyes open now but unfocused. He barely even blinked. "I am definitely not drunk enough for this shit," she muttered.

With a last confused glance at her newest, weirdest prisoner, she left to track down Thor and the Hulk.

 **Author's note: Questions? Comments? I don't really have anything particularly creative to say at the moment...but feel free to leave a review :)**


	6. Chapter 6

_Seek..._

Loki lost track of time before the voices returned, and then there was pain in his head.

He had surrendered for nothing, he despaired.

Better to fight and die then.

* * *

"Also, I've got a peace offering."

"A peace offering?"

Valkyrie opened the door. The first thing Thor saw in the room was Loki, chained to a chair, staring straight at the door... but actually staring at nothing, strangely. He didn't look up to make eye contact, and his gaze remained steady even as the group shuffled into the room. Shrugging, Thor found a bottle on the nearest shelf and tossed it at his brother. Surprisingly, it bounced off his head rather than passing through.

Even more surprisingly, though, that's all that happened. Loki still stared straight ahead. For one second...two... five...ten. After an entirely too-long time, Loki looked up at him, expression still vacant, lips slowly parting to form the simple word, "ow." Then he lurched backwards, and brightness flared over his body as an illusion shattered. It was still Loki, but his hair was not combed, his eyes were sunken in, and his clothes hung off him as though he had lost a lot of weight, very quickly. Valkyrie slammed the door down behind them. Loki's mouth snapped shut again, and Thor realized that he was biting through his own lip as bright blood ran down his chin. He struggled against his chains, and his chair fell over.

"Stop it, Loki, you'll hurt yourself!"

Loki ignored him, may not even have heard him. He continued to writhe on the floor, chains clanking and groaning around him. Concerned, Thor strode over and knelt near his head. Loki snarled and jerked away. With a sudden snap, one chain broke, and Loki's thrashing increased as he tried to force his left arm free. It snagged as he did, and Thor watched with growing horror as first the leather coat then the skin and muscle of his brother's forearm tore away. Blood spurted from some severed artery.

"Unchain him!" Thor shouted, whirling around to his companions. Bruce was standing in the corner in shock. Valkyrie was still poised by the door.

"Are you crazy?" She answered. "He's insane. He tried to kill me earlier, and I _had_ to chain him up!"

With a frustrated growl, Thor turned back around and started breaking the chains himself. Loki was many things, but he wasn't insane. This was clearly another "panic attack," Thor decided. With each metallic snap, Loki cursed and tried to squirm away. He clearly had no idea what was going on. "Shhh... Loki, it's Thor. You're safe now. Just relax and let me help you." Eventually, Loki had slithered all the way to the wall, where he lay shivering and mumbling and bleeding freely from his lacerated arm. Thor gently disentangled him from the various chain fragments, whispering soothing nonsense as he did. Then, hesitantly, he scooped his brother into an awkward hug, one hand snaking around to control the bleeding. They stayed still for a long time, as Loki finally stopped twitching. Loki's good hand found Thor's fingers and grasped tightly, making the Thunderer wince. But he didn't object. Loki's breaths still came in rapid bursts alternating with breath-holding. Whatever fear had started this still consumed him. Thor didn't move, keeping his body between his brother and the rest of the room.

He heard shifting behind him. "What's wrong with him?" came Bruce's quiet question.

Thor exhaled. "I don't know. _Something's_ been going on since before New York I gather, but I didn't realize it until just before we came here."

"If he's your brother, how could you not notice he's _bonkers?_ " Valkyrie exploded.

Thor glanced back at her with a weary smile. "To be fair, I thought he was dead for the last year. Until just before we came here. Before that, I just thought he was evil." Loki shuddered against him. "But he's _not_ evil," Thor continued firmly.

"He's working for the Grandmaster, and he tried to kill me," Valkyrie reminded them.

"Yes, yes. Me too, on many occasions." Thor smiled. "There was one time when we were children, he transformed himself into a snake, and he knows that I love snakes. So I went to pick up the snake to admire it, and he transformed back into himself and said 'Byaahh! It's me!' Then he stabbed me... we were eight at the time." He looked down and was pleased to discover Loki was also smiling faintly. It wasn't a great memory for Thor, but he knew it was for Loki. It was one of the few times his younger brother had managed to upstage him as a child in a physical altercation...even with cheating. "He's not evil," Thor repeated. "He's mischievous. He's the god of mischief, in fact. There's a difference."

"New York was _mischievous?_ " Bruce asked, with a dangerous note of anger tainting his voice.

"Ah, no. That was pretty evil, but I don't think..." He paused, because Loki had gone utterly still in his arms. "Nevermind." He scooped Loki up and deposited him back in the rapidly righted chair, then picked up a shredded piece of Loki's cloak to use as a bandage until the sorcerer felt like actually healing his arm.

"Leave it," Loki said softly. Thor just looked at him. Loki blinked and after a moment offered his arm after all.

While Thor finished tying off the bandage, Bruce edged over cautiously and peered at Loki, who stared back menacingly. "Hello, Bruce," he said softly, as if he had not just collapsed in front of the whole group. Thor could feel him tense up though.

"So, the last time I saw you, you were trying to kill everybody," Bruce said with a nervous laugh. Thor looked at him askance. "Where are you at these days?"

"It varies from moment to moment." Bruce immediately backed off again, and Thor poked Loki in the cheek. He was startled when the younger brother flinched at his touch.

"Why do you do that?" he asked softly.

"Do what?" Loki said, not looking at him. His chin trembled, and he sniffed deliberately.

"Pretend you're fine. Antagonize everyone."

"It's amusing."

"No, Loki, it isn't." Thor got up and turned his back on him, watching Valkyrie sorting through her possessions. He didn't know how to deal with his brother any more, and he didn't have the time for it anyways. Or the patience. Valkyrie dumped a load of laundry and an unusual sword on the bed. "Is that a dragon fang?" he asked, looking for a distraction.

"It is."

He picked it up and drew the blade. "My god." It was beautiful, the famed sword of the Valkyrie.

"So what now? Sakaar and Asgard are about as far apart as any two known systems." She strode right past Loki's chair and its nest of blood-spattered chains, business-like and deliberately ignoring him. Thor followed suit, forcing himself to concentrate on Asgard, his most important problem. "Our best bet is a wormhole just outside the city limits. We can be back in Asgard in around... eighteen months."

Loki snorted. Thor just said, "Nope. We are going through the big one." He pointed to the pillar of fire that represented the largest portal on Sakaar.

"The Devil's Anus?" Valkyrie said in disbelief.

"Anus?! Wait, wait, wait, _whose_ anus?" Bruce said around a mouthful of sandwich. He actually had three sandwiches arranged before him, all unappealing conglomerations to various degrees. It occurred to Thor his friend still might not really functioning like a normal person. The Hulk had been out for too long.

"For the record, I didn't know it was called that when I picked it."

Loki snorted again.

"That looks like a collapsing neutron star inside of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge," Bruce objected.

"We need another ship," Valkyrie broke in, taking a swig from a suspicious-looking bottle. "That will tear mine to pieces."

"She's right," Thor said, turning to face the group. "We need one that will withstand the geodetic strain from the singularities."

"And has an offline power steering system that can also function without the onboard computer," Bruce said as he ambled over.

"And we need one with cupholders, because we're going to die, so DRINKS!" Valkyrie said cheerily.

Bruce grinned at her. "Do I know you? I feel like I know you."

"I feel like I know you too. It's weird."

"What do you say?" Thor muttered to Bruce softly as they gazed out the window. The tempest looked like a gateway to Hell, very appropriate given the name and who they expected to find on the other side. Quite the trip for the two strongest Avengers, Thor thought with a quick and unexpected thrill of anticipation. "One shot at intergalactic travel through a volatile cosmic gateway? Talk about an adventure." They looked at eachother, both instantly grinning like fools. It was unbelievably good to have an old friend again, not just Loki and his sarcasm and his problems, Thor thought. They bumped fists. "We need a ship!"

"Need a ship!"

"There are one or two ships," Valkyrie said. "Have to be top of the line models -"

"I don't mean to impose," Loki said from the other side of the room. Valkyrie whirled around and raised her arm to hurl her bottle at him. Thor caught her arm before she could set off yet another attack, and stared at his brother. The illusion was back, though blood stains all around him left plenty of evidence for his earlier distress. There was a pause, and he continued, "the Grandmaster has a great many ships. I may even have stolen the access codes to his security system." He smiled slightly, and Thor frowned at him, eyes resting on the injured arm. He couldn't tell if Loki had actually healed it or not.

"And suddenly you're overcome with the urge to do the right thing," Valkyrie said impatiently, hands on her hips.

"Heavens no," Loki said in a dangerously flat voice. "I have run out of favor with the Grandmaster. As have you. If you couldn't feel that already, more fool you. In exchange for codes and access to his ships, I am asking for safe passage." He offered another tiny smile. "Through the anus."

The tiny smile wavered. Loki was desperate, and he was floundering. Thor could see it now, as he should have seen days ago in the cells. Something had happened to him that made him incapable of his usual precise action and caused him to break rather than bend under pressure. No wonder he hadn't wanted to rock the boat when Thor first arrived, if this was his fate when things went wrong. There wasn't much Thor could do for him, though, particularly if he didn't want to talk about it. Saving Asgard had to come first. So he played along. "You're telling us that you can get us access into the garage without setting off any of the alarms?"

"Yes, brother, I can."

"Can I just remind the group that he was just threatening to kill us a few minutes ago?" Bruce said, ears tinging green again.

Which begged the question of why Loki hadn't already left if he had the ability. Thor looked back at Loki. He was either waiting for Thor to make his own escape, or he was planning to betray them. He studied his brother, still sitting in his chair, holding tight to an illusion that to Thor at least did absolutely nothing to conceal his ague. The magic was more a security blanket than a shield, Thor decided. Same for the aggression. Loki was trying to look and feel normal for himself, not for the three of them. He had acted the same way when their mother died. And that mission had turned out surprisingly well in retrospect. Relying on him was probably worth the risk, with precautions.

Valkyrie shrugged. "If we're boosting a ship, we're going to need to draw some guards away from the palace."

* * *

 _Seek. Locate. Exterminate..._

 **Author's note: Hey, no one would know this was one of _my_ angsty Loki stories if he didn't injure his arm at some point, right? It's like anime and right hands (there's a meme to that effect somewhere).**


	7. Chapter 7

_Seek._ HIDE.

 _Locate._ RUN.

 _Exterminate_. ESCAPE.

The throbbing in Loki's arm was masked by a pressure feeling in his head. He knew exactly where it came from: warring instincts. His own, and those imposed by the Grandmaster. Not for the first time in his life, he wished he were a little less telepathically inclined. He didn't have any more _innate_ protection or susceptibility, from outside influences than any other soul, but he found them _much_ more distracting. It was like the difference between camping in an area known for venomous wildlife and actually finding a viper. Loki was so distracted by the metaphorical viper hissing into his head, it took him almost a minute after they entered the elevator for him to notice that Thor was talking to him.

"...Loki, I thought the world of you. I thought we were going to fight side by side forever, but at the end of the day, you're you and I'm me. I don't know, maybe there's still some good in you. But let's be honest: our paths diverged a long time ago."

Loki wasn't sure what to think of that, as he wasn't sure what he had missed. Was this an opening statement or a conclusion? He was too embarrassed by his latest fit to admit he hadn't been listening though. Suddenly nervous about how he was supposed to respond, he fell back on his usual carefully cultivated nonchalance. "Yeah. It's probably for the best that we never see each other again." He shivered inwardly. He didn't mean that.

Thor paused, and Loki suspected he had answered incorrectly. Too late now. "It's what you always wanted," Thor eventually said. He patted Loki's back awkwardly before looking away. Oh, yes, Loki had definitely answered wrong. Thor had been trying to reconnect, possibly, and Loki had shut him down without even thinking about it. Oops.

 _Seek. Locate. Exterminate._ Loki closed his eyes against the unconscious command, repeating his own mantra: hide, run, escape. Alone if needed, since he had just lost his latest chance to ally properly with his brother.

They passed another couple floors of the skyscraper in silence before Thor ventured, "Hey, let's do 'Get Help.'"

"What?"

"Get Help. For the guards at the top of the tower."

"No." Loki shook his head emphatically.

"Come on, you love it," Thor cajoled.

"I hate it." He really did.

"It's great. It works every time."

"It's humiliating." Although that wasn't actually why he hated it.

"You got a better plan?"

"...No." Loki said, cursing himself. He should have been thinking of some other way to deal with the guards. He knew they were there after all, had told Thor they were there.

"We're doing it."

"We are not doing 'Get Help.'" But of course they were, Loki thought furiously. Because Thor always got his way, and Loki always went along with it, even when it hurt. And being flung around by your arm hurt. Being set upon by Thor's friends afterwards in retaliation for the trick hurt, even though in this instance, the trickery was _never_ his idea. This particular gambit was Thor's one original thought, and the older brother was proud of it. In Loki's opinion, the only somewhat good thing that could be said for "Get Help" is that it made Thor happy. He paused, a rare feeling of soft reflection stealing across him. It made Thor happy the same way the snake story Thor had told earlier used to make Loki happy. The one time Thor got to be the brains of their operation...

They hadn't actually _done_ "Get Help" in centuries. Well then, for old times' sake, before they both met their deaths back on Asgard. He wrapped one arm around Thor and sagged against him, letting Thor take most of his weight. That was nice, at least.

"GET HELP!" Thor shouted as soon as the elevator doors slid open. "Please! My brother's dying! Get help!" The confused guards started walking in their direction. Loki held his breath, then rather unintentionally gasped as the Grandmaster's thought started to swell. Something else was happening. "Help him!" As soon as the guards were clustered close enough, Thor lunged forward, bodily throwing Loki at their enemy, taking them all down in a bruised heap. "Ahh, classic!" Thor crowed.

Loki climbed stiffly to his feet. "Still hate it," he muttered. "It's humiliating." The pressure in his head redoubled, and Loki felt a wave of nausea, driven by the current of the Grandmaster's fury ripping through the city. _Obey. Kill. Die._ The rebellion must have started, he realized. Loki had doubted that would actually work... His hands shook as he entered the access code into the door, and he willed the illusion to hide it.

"Well, not for me, it's not!" Thor's cheerful obliviousness was becoming really annoying.

Something snapped, and Loki's head throbbed even as he stumbled after Thor.

 _Seek. Obey._ HIDE! _Rebel!_

 _Locate. Kill._ RUN! _Fight!_

 _Exterminate. Die._ ESCAPE! _Bleed._

A chorus of conflicting commands pounded him, but one hammered louder than the others, and he qualed beneath it. Oh dear. _Rebel, fight, bleed._ The Grandmaster was enjoying the fighting, amused by it, encouraging it. He had a new game - a Game with a grand scale. Loki should have anticipated that. The little slaves' rebellion they had provoked as their distraction was about to ignite into a civil war. He could feel it...and he could see it. Glimpses out a window where a work crew had turned riotous. Snatches of shouting down an otherwise empty corridor. Loki glanced at Thor, who appeared somewhat buoyed by the violent mood, with a scent of ozone about him. Studying Thor, his hopes rose a little. Their odds of a successful escape seemed quite good, honestly. Much better than if he was trying to escape by himself. He was too diminished, whereas Thor had flourished in recent years. He felt a rush of relief that he would be leaving the soon-to-explode tinderbox.

His relief was short-lived though when he remembered they were headed right back to another war, against Hela, on Asgard. His monstrous anxiety, always simmering, began to boil. Even if Thor had "flourished" as Loki's scattered thoughts had deemed, Hela was stronger than Thor. He could see in his mind's eye Thor's hammer shattering in her outstretched hand and feel again the terror that came with the shock wave. He couldn't help the thought that came next: with the Grandmaster on the verge of teetering right off his throne, Loki's chances of a long and healthy life might actually be better here.

No, that was a bad idea. Definitely bad. He was going back to Asgard and almost certain death _because_ Sakaar was intolerable... and _he_ at least wasn't actually planning to stick around on Asgard for any length of time. Just long enough to leave again. He forced himself to breathe easily, willed his mind to stay resolute. A distant alarm blared, and Thor sped up, Loki quickly matching his stride

...But _this_ kind of chaos was his element. It would be easy to assume command of some faction and lead it to the top. Or take two or three and play them against each other. He stared at Thor's back as they rounded a corner.

No. Asgard needed Thor, and Thor needed him to get to Asgard, even if both were essentially doomed. And the Grandmaster was unlikely to topple _that_ easily, once he tired of his pets' antics and started suppressing the rioting rather than promoting it... It occurred to Loki that if things went wrong with Thor's plan to escape the planet, there was a very good chance that they (he) could rapidly regain some security on Sakaar by targeting the Grandmaster himself and making themselves heroes of the rebellion. Or simply by helping the Grandmaster to reassert his control when the time came. He gritted his teeth, hating his brain for coming up with these ideas.

 _Rebel. Fight. Bleed._

"Which way?" Thor asked. Loki pointed down the left hand corridor. They were almost to the hangar. He just had to stick to the plan, and all the uncertainty would go away because there would not be any other options. He would just have to cope with whatever fate had in store for him. Back on Asgard, against a death goddess.

 _Obey. Kill. Die._

He chided himself. Fate hated him. His life was a testament to that. He was almost definitely going to die when he returned to Asgard, and probably would then become one of Hela's undead drones, of which she no doubt had created hundreds if not thousands in the last month. Or if Fate _really_ hated him, he would go down fighting on the Bifrost, and fall off of it. Again. And repeat this whole forsaken cycle all over again.

 _Seek. Locate. Exterminate._

A chill took him. He heard and had too many thoughts. Too many. Too many, and he really should not have thought of that. He didn't need anything more to be afraid of. It was stupid to imagine how he might fall again, crash again, hurt again. Be found again when he should be hidden. Be broken again when he should be healing. Be controlled again when he should be free. Be alone again when he should be...cared for. He didn't have anyone caring for him anyways though. Not really. Not anymore. Thor had said so, just minutes ago. " _A_ _t the end of the day, you're you and I'm me. I don't know, maybe there's still some good in you. But let's be honest: our paths diverged a long time ago."_

 _ **Betray**..._ Loki wasn't sure if that thought was his, or the Grandmaster's. But it was irresistible. It was his path.

Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker? He had read that somewhere.

The doors to the hangar opened. He already had an illusion wrapped around himself. It was a simple thing to let the illusion walk on with Thor while he himself turned aside. A trickle of guilt found him when he reached the communications panel, and before he could realize, he heard his illusion say, "Though I feel it won't make much of a difference..."

 _Bor's baggy... of all the stupid things to do._ He hadn't actually meant for it to say anything. He spun around to see Thor shaking his head at the illusion before turning to face him. The illusory Loki dissipated, while the real Loki's insides turned to water and the all-too-familiar pain slammed into his chest.

Loki plastered a grin across his face he definitely didn't feel. "I know I've betrayed you many times before, but this time it's truly nothing personal." Thor smiled and nodded. That was weird. He fumbled for the communication controls one-handed as his heart pounded in his chest. He cursed his insufficiency. "The reward for your capture," he continued, "will set me up nicely."

"Never one for sentiment, were you?" Thor said pointedly. He didn't seem angry at all, just impatient.

Thor's response made Loki even more nervous. He was doing a bad job at this, but he had played his hand and discovered he didn't really want to be around a Thor he couldn't predict in any case. It was too unsettling. Unfamiliar. Uncanny. He wanted to get away from that almost as much as he wanted to find a safe place to hide away. He bared his teeth to hide any worry. "Easier to let it burn."

"I completely agree." Thor raised a device which Loki readily recognized as a controller for a pain chip. He forgot about betraying Thor and securing his position and cast about himself hysterically. He didn't care what happened next, so long as he could _get it OFF!_

Thor pressed a button, and Loki collapsed as electricity lanced through him. He couldn't move and couldn't think. He was helpless until freed, the worst state imaginable. He was veering towards a black memory when he heard footsteps and Thor's voice coming towards him. He tried to focus his panicked mind. Thor was his only chance for reprieve now, he had to hear what was said, had to go along with whatever Thor demanded of him. It was his only chance to _get it OFF! Get it OFF!_

But he couldn't concentrate beyond the pain, couldn't understand what Thor was telling him. Desperate, he thought again of the one spell that could free him from the pain, allow him to listen, and he didn't care about the risks.

 **Author's note: so, some pretty obvious references in there - "seek, locate, exterminate" is of course courtesy of the Daleks of Doctor Who. "Does the walker choose the path or the path the walker?" is a line from the _Abhorsen Trilogy_ by Garth Nix, a truly excellent series of fantasy novels featuring very capable young women who fight zombies professionally. It's awesome. **

**Anyhow, something I hope is evident in the Loki POV chapters at this point is how much he's trapped in his own head. He observes but doesn't really listen to what else is going on and just has this storm of really unhelpful thoughts distracting him - that's kinda the primary component I think of when it comes to anxiety disorders anyways. Also loss of agency, the feeling that there's nothing the individual can do to stop the symptoms and get better.**


	8. Chapter 8

A fortress slammed down between Loki and his magic, his body. This time, the autopuppetry had exactly one command: do whatever Thor wants.

All sensation was muted. All that existed was Loki's inner world, that forest of bleak thoughts and dark fears where he was always tangled in the thorns of the past and could never find the path _out_. At least the physical pain stopped immediately with the autopuppetry, to his relief, though he could certainly tell something was wrong if he concentrated. Even if he never regained his free will again, it was worth it to stop the pain, he thought, then felt ashamed for thinking that... Interestingly, the Grandmaster's commands also stopped hounding him - still felt but not heard, with his magic cut off. That was also a relief. His electrocuted body continued to twitch and spasm beyond any physical or magical control, but he ignored that and concentrated on Thor who he found standing over him. He looked disappointed, and resigned. It was an incredible relief to be able to see that though, to be able to listen at _all_.

"Dear brother, you are becoming predictable," Thor said, sounding vaguely patronizing to Loki's muffled ear. "I trust you, you betray me. 'Round and 'round in circles we go. Do you know what life's about? It's about change. But you seem to just want to stay the same. Even when you're hurting and someone is trying to _help_ you, you push away and bite the hand that's offered."

With a start, Loki noticed that his injured arm was healing. Apparently, his magic had determined that what Thor would want him to do is take care of himself. He would laugh if he could, it seemed so ridiculous in the moment. Then it struck him what exactly Thor had said, and both his fear and his amusement vanished in utter incredulity.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that you'll always be the god of mischief," Thor continued, uncaringly oblivious as always, "but you could be more...I would like to help you, Loki. I would like to be your friend again. But you won't let me, and I can't trust you, and I can't stay here to make you change when you don't even want to try... I'm sorry."

Loki didn't hear anything else, wasn't sure if Thor had gone, and he found he didn't care. He was furious. Thor thought he was this way because he _wanted_ to be? Thor was an idiot. A forsaken idiot who deserved every petty trick Loki had ever played on him, every wound he'd ever suffered, every loss he'd ever taken, if he thought for one instant that this pitiful existence is what Loki _wanted_... It was amazing how much it hurt to hear Thor say that.

He fumed silently as his body continued to shudder. Minutes passed. Maybe an hour. He didn't know and couldn't bring himself to care.

He couldn't help that he was irredeemably broken.

His fury gradually eroded, replaced by despondency. He was too tired to think about what would happen next. It wouldn't be good, and that was enough to go on.

* * *

Loki only noticed that the pain chip was deactivated when he suddenly climbed to his feet with a renewed illusion springing up around him. A crowd of what looked to be presumably now ex-gladiators were milling around the hangar, staring at the various ships.

"Hey man," said a large rock-like alien with a surprisingly friendly voice, apparently talking to him. "We're about to jump on that ginormous spaceship. Want to come?" That was possibly the strangest thing anyone had ever said to him, Loki thought. He wondered if he had missed something.

His pristine illusion smiled broadly. "Well, you do seem like you're in desperate need of leadership, so..."

"Why thank you." That was even stranger. Loki hoped that the rock alien was real and just came from an oddly xenial culture. He was concerned this might be a hallucination though, or maybe his magic going haywire due to the still active autopuppetry spell.

"I'm Korg, by the way." The giant (Korg apparently) said.

"Loki of Asgard."

"No kidding? Hey, I met another guy, Thor of Asgard, here recently. You know him?"

"He's my brother."

"Really? I thought he escaped though. Shouldn't you be with him, going back to your planet?"

"I plan to rejoin him shortly." The real Loki cursed. Of course he was. Somehow even when he hit rock bottom things just kept getting worse. Not only would be going back to Asgard, but he would be going back on a magical autopilot without any actual control over his faculties. Perfect.

"Oh yeah? Anything we can do to help?"

"Indeed yes, you and your friends here, Thor's friends as well I trust, will be instrumental. I stayed behind to wait for you..." At least the illusion was still a good liar.

The group boarded the Grandmaster's flagship, Loki leading them unerringly to the bridge and deftly setting the launch sequence.

"Oh, this is great," Korg said. "Hey guys! Loki knows how to fly this thing!" A few scattered cheers filtered from the other gladiators who had been staring at the controls perplexedly. The illusion smiled and activated the remote signal to open the hangar doors then began programming a course to take them to Asgard. The real Loki bent all his willpower to the task of moving his hand to cancel take off; his fingers didn't even twitch. He tried to scream his frustration, and when that failed, he allowed himself to recede from awareness fully to sulk in peace.

He might be awake, but he didn't have to be present.

Except, it occurred to him, he might. As soon as the spell wore off, he would _have_ to know what was going on and find a way to deal with it. Which meant he had better start coming up with a plan for what to do when the spell inevitably freed him in the midst of battle back on Asgard, most likely just in time to be stabbed in the belly...he shuddered. He remembered that feeling and had no wish to repeat it.

So be it. He would give himself up to one hour to settle himself, center himself, control himself. Then he would take one hour to plan without distraction. And then he would have to watch, and wait.

 **Author's note: can't just leave the cool spells to happen once and never come back again :) Especially when this particular one is so close to the theme - Loki's mental illness in this story controls him to the extent that he loses agency as a character. He _can't_ make decisions and follow through. And with this particular spell, he _literally_ gives up agency completely, in this case to Thor, indirectly (which is basically the arc of those two in the films, with Loki becoming more and more lost and reactive and Thor becoming more and more the responsible, proactive one).**


	9. Chapter 9

Loki watched. His illusion - his autopuppet - efficiently debriefed the gladiators, guided the ship low through a cloud bank to land several hand-picked melee fighters (Korg and his friend Pulad) to break up the skirmish line on the Bifrost, then circled the ship around to take on passengers. As soon as the final docking sequence was laid in, he arose and left the bridge, pacing silently through the ship's corridors to the main cargo hold with the other gladiators trailing along in his wake. He positioned himself on the gangplank, waiting for the mists to part. Faintly, Loki felt his face twist, and he realized he was now wearing an absurd, toothy grin. For some reason. His arms rose.

"Your savior is heeeeeere!" Loki cringed. He didn't want to be noticed, but his autopuppet clearly did. He hoped never to hear his voice saying those words ever again. Or hear himself saying anything _else_ in that horrible, upbeat tone. Why _that_ was apparently a necessary part of "doing whatever Thor would want," he would never know. In a perfect world, perhaps the Bifrost could malfunction in this moment and swallow him and the entire ship, and all the Asgardians who heard him say that. That didn't happen, obviously, but the vindictive thoughts against his own spell helped him to keep focused on the task at hand, rather than the fact that he was probably about to bear witness to Hela tearing apart his home, his people, and his mindless body.

Loki's magic propelled him through the crowd with the unique single-mindedness of a compulsion. He noticed a spell of clairvoyance dart out of him and stream towards the city. The autopuppet was looking for Thor, he realized.

"I saw you coming," said a voice to his left. Belatedly, Loki recognized it was Heimdall. He wondered if the Watcher knew what he was talking to.

"Of course you did," said the autopuppet.

What happened next was a dizzying whirlwind of activity as the spell first directed refugees to board the ship then waded into the crowd towards the dark mass of undead danger racing towards them along the Bifrost. It was very difficult for Loki to keep track of exactly what was happening. There was a lot of swerving and slashing. Everything remained muffled and blurred, and there continued to be a frustrating delay between registering new stimulus and his actually comprehending what was going on.

There was a sudden pause in the fighting as the light changed. Lightning flooded the sky. The autopuppet stood still as a statue smirking in the general direction of the city. It took Loki a moment to realize the figure hurtling towards them through the storm was actually...Thor. A Thor who had become the storm, thunder and lightning incarnate. The God of Thunder was owning his magic at last, true to his nature for the first time that Loki had witnessed. It was awe-inspiring, even Loki had to admit in his distraction.

When the autopuppetry spell chose that moment to abruptly end, it felt like a detonation inside his head.

The first thing he noticed was how very _loud_ the thunder was. The second thing was how very _bright_ the lightning was. Then he noticed the horrible weakness and pain in all his muscles...probably because he had spent over an hour being electrocuted earlier in the day. His limbs hurt. His chest hurt. His back hurt. His _bowels_ hurt. His _eyes_ hurt. He could practically taste the waste of dying muscles on his breath, though that may have been his overactive imagination. Every part of him was crying out for rest and relief. He might have fainted from the shock if a surge of adrenaline powered by pure terror hadn't struck at the same moment. He couldn't stop. He ducked under the sword aimed at his head and stabbed the offending ghoul in the chest. The next opponent knocked off his helmet, but he snatched it back out of the air and used the horns to stab his foe. It was a _lot_ harder to think and to focus and to react than he had anticipated. But he had a job to do, the winning move in this particular game. He had to get to Odin's Vault. Everything he needed was there.

"You're late," Thor panted when he reached them.

That riled Loki to no end given the fact that Thor had quite literally paralyzed him with a pain chip before abandoning him on Sakaar. "You're missing an eye," Loki spat.

"This isn't over," Valkyrie said as she stomped past.

The brothers turned to join her, staring up at the city where the aura of Hela's power still dominated. Thor shook his head in frustration. "I think we should disband the Revengers," he commented to Valkyrie. Loki almost laughed, except that it hurt too much - that must have been the name the idiot had come up with for his new team. A truly vain attempt to recapture the past. Even Loki knew the Avengers back on Earth were far from a united front at this point. He glanced at his companions. It was plain their morale had stumbled somewhere along the way.

All the same, even missing an eye Thor was stronger now than Loki had ever seen him, and Loki really didn't want to execute his own plan. "Hit her with your lightning blast," he urged.

"I just hit her with the biggest lightning blast in the history of lightning!" Thor protested wearily. "It did nothing."

They stared down the Bifrost, where Hela was now stalking serenely towards them in the distance. "We just have to hold her off until everyone's on board," Valkyrie ventured.

"It won't end there. The longer Hela's on Asgard, the more powerful she grows. She'll hunt us down. We need to stop her here and now."

"So what do we do?" Valkyrie asked.

Thor didn't answer, just stared ahead blankly, looking tired.

"I... I have an idea," Loki said reluctantly, swallowing the lump that rose in his throat. The others looked at him, and he stared determinedly at Thor's nose, speaking quickly. "I need to get to the Vault. I can use the C-casket of Ancient Winters to freeze her, temporarily at least. Then I can use the Space Stone within the Tesseract together with the ancient Infinity Gauntlet to cast her apart into the farthest reaches of Yggdrasil."

They stared at him. " _You're_ going to use three of the most powerful weapons in the universe that the Allfather deliberately locked away because they were so dangerous?" Valkyrie asked scathingly.

Loki glared at her. Her lack of confidence was not helping. "I've handled two of them before," he informed her. And he'd actually worked with _two_ Infinity Stones, though it still galled him to realize the staff Thanos had given him was powered by the Mind Stone, something that occurred to him only as he was reading in the archives of Asgard last year. He shook himself away from the memory. No, the magic involved was one thing he _wasn't_ afraid of. He just wasn't sure it would be enough to bring down Hela.

Thor smiled and shook his head. "Leave it to you to come up with something like that," he said...fondly? "But you've given me a better idea."

Valkyrie swung around to stare at him, and Loki raised one eyebrow. "I'm not doing 'Get Help.'"

"There's a couple other things in the Vault, Brother," Thor said smugly. "I put one there." Loki realized then exactly what he meant, and it _was_ a better idea. Thor held out a hand and called up a sword of pure electricity. "We'll keep her occupied for you. Run!"

Loki ran. He ran all the way past the refugee ship to the smaller cruiser Thor had commandeered. He set the flight controls almost without thinking and the ship took off, straight up into the cloudbank before speeding towards the city far faster than was technically safe. "This is insanity," he breathed, heart pounding. He waited at the main hatchway, clutching the doorframe. He shuddered as the ship burst through a wall into the Great Hall and came to a screeching stop as stone tore through the metal. Then he was out again and sprinting through familiar halls, down and down the stairs. He flung open the doors of the Vault. He snatched up the horned skull of the great fire demon Surtur and dashed over to the Eternal Flame.

Only then did he pause to catch his breath and calm himself. He could not afford to mess this up if he wanted to stay alive. Maybe he would be better off with his original plan after all... _NO_. He was no Necromancer, but he didn't have to be for this. Objects this powerful _wanted_ to activate and to increase. He allowed himself five calming breaths, imagined himself free and safe at last, and finally entered into a light trance. The Eternal Flame cradled his thought eagerly, licking his consciousness and finding his intent to its liking. Following the Flame's whispered suggestions, he set the skull into the heat, where it floated eerily as on a liquid rather than air. "With the Eternal Flame, you are reborn, Surtur, Destroyer of Worlds," he murmured with the taste of magic filling his mouth. The words were not his, and they sent a chill through him to smother even the heat of the Eternal Flame. He wasn't just reviving the fire demon but recreating him a thousand times stronger, he suddenly knew. Fire blossomed in Surtur's eye sockets. Hela didn't stand a chance.

Neither did he if he stayed here any longer, he cursed to himself, the instant panic easily breaking his trance. What had he done? He cast about the rest of the collection in the Vault, trying to decide what would be the worst thing to leave behind to be used by the demon. His eyes fell again on the Tesseract...or to be destroyed by the demon? He wasn't sure if even Surtur reborn could destroy an Infinity Stone, but he would hate to find out the hard way with the universe disintegrating around him. He snatched up the Tesseract and bolted back the way he came just as a deadly roar shook the Vault. The floor shuddered and cracked beneath him, and he felt his throat start close as he realized he was not going to be able to get back to the ship in time. He kept staggering upwards. Then the stone ceiling caved in on top of him. All at once, he was stuck.

He was lying on his side in a tomb of tumbled rock with pain in every bone and muscle and dust choking his lungs. _Again._

Unimaginable horrors loomed on either side of him, and they would soon be coming. _Again._

He was alone, curled into a fetal position with an Infinity Stone pressed into his belly...and that was his way out, he realized with a wave of relief. As quickly as he dared, he reached for the power radiating from the cube. When his grip was secure, and he saw his destination in his mind's eye, he pulled with all his strength... and materialized on the bridge of the ship surrounded by other Asgardian refugees who appeared very startled to see him. The scene wavered. He couldn't bring himself to care any more. He surrendered to his exhaustion and let his mind sleep.

 **Author's Note: You know the Infinity Gauntlet in the Vault is a fake, and I know it's a fake, and Hela knows it's a fake... but Loki doesn't! Good thing he didn't have to rely on it. Hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. We're almost done...please leave a review and tell me what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

Thor stared at himself in the mirror, prodding his eyepatch gingerly. There was a strange contrast between how he knew he looked right now - like Odin's heir - and how he felt. He didn't feel even the tiniest bit wise. He felt like a well-bludgeoned and lucky fool. How was it that his entire face still hurt, not just the eye socket?

He paused as Loki appeared in the mirror behind him. He looked around. His brother looked very different from the composed and stoic man that had stood by him at the "coronation" earlier. This might even be the real Loki, he thought. There was rock dust all over his clothing and encrusting his dark hair, turning it an uneven gray and causing it to stick out at odd angles. Although it occurred to him there must be something else under the dust to do that, maybe dry blood. Regardless, the former Loki must have been an illusion.

"It suits you," Loki said quietly, staring at his lost eye and new patch.

Thor looked down self-consciously. Loki meant what he said. He could tell. He wasn't used to a Loki that was honest. He didn't know how to respond. So he grinned. "Well, maybe you're not so bad after all, Brother."

Loki raised his eyebrows. "Maybe not."

"...Thank you." He grinned wider to break the tension. "If you're actually here I might even give you a hug." He tossed a bottle stopper at Loki, who caught it, eyes never leaving his.

Loki exhaled slowly. "I'm here, Thor." He looked down, then walked forwards to set the stopper back into its bottle, fiddling with it for a needlessly long time it seemed to Thor. Finally, he looked up again, his expression ever so carefully blank again. He wore that face too often, Thor decided with a pang. In the dim light, he could just make out what must have been tear-trails streaking through the fine dust coating Loki's face. Thor held out a hand wordlessly, and they hugged tightly. For a long time. Saying nothing.

There wasn't anything that needed to be said, really, and they always seemed to hurt each other with their words anyways.

Thor thought he understood Loki a little better, now. He had been on the brink of disaster fighting Hela alone until Loki had arrived despite his obvious reluctance to come. In the end, both of them had barely escaped with their lives. Loki's fears _had_ been well-warranted. Both were shaken on the inside, and holding Loki's tense form, Thor decided he had come out the better off, despite losing an eye. Thor knew deep down that _he_ would get over this shocked feeling. He wasn't so sure that Loki would, since he had suffered not one but a whole series of these catastrophes. The last few years had been hard for Thor, but they were hellish for Loki. First the fiasco with Jotunheim drove him to _let go_ from the Bifrost, not just fall as Thor had made himself believe. That endless fall landed him in some mostly still-unknown den of horrors that drove him to the madness of New York. _That_ ended of course in utter defeat and imprisonment. Then Mother died. Then _Loki_ nearly died. Then little more than a year later came Hela and Sakaar and _Ragnarok_ of all things. Impending doom had become Loki's new normal, Thor suddenly, finally, understood.

After a few minutes, unaccustomed hugging becomes uncomfortable though. "Do you want a drink?" Thor asked.

Loki burst out laughing, even though it wasn't very funny. But he let go and accepted a glass of whatever unidentifiable alcohol was in the decanter with two hands, downing it quickly. There was plenty of it; the pink stuff seemed ubiquitous in all the Grandmaster's ships. It didn't seem to do much for Loki's nerves, unfortunately. Thor finished his own drink quickly, and they both stood there staring out of the window into the emptiness of space. Thor noticed Loki kept darting glances at the seam where the window met the floor and surreptitiously edging backwards, but eventually there was stillness.

Minutes passed before Loki broke the silence, "Do you really think it's a good idea to go back to Earth?"

"Yes, of course," Thor said, surprised that was what Loki was thinking about. "The people of Earth love me. I'm very popular there."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Let me rephrase that. Do you really think it's a good idea to bring _me_ back to Earth?"

Ah. Right. He looked over at Loki. "Probably not to be honest." He smiled encouragingly at the doubt in Loki's eyes. "But I wouldn't worry about it. I have a feeling that everything's going to work out fine."

They both looked away, only to see a massive starship looming towards them out of the blackness. The ship dwarfed theirs and blotted out all the stars in the window. Thor just stared up in surprise. It was Loki's sharp intake of breath that told him something was dreadfully wrong.

He looked around. Loki had stumbled back to the opposite wall, staring at the black ship in utter horror. His magic was twisted about him minting layer after layer of protection, a telling contrast to the tears now running freely down his shocked face. _No, no, no_ he mouthed silently.

"Loki!" Thor rushed to him, and it was like his brother couldn't even see him, he was so caught up in the vision spreading across the window. He grabbed Loki's face and pulled it to him. "Loki, what's wrong? You know that ship, don't you?" Voiceless, Loki nodded. "Who is it then?"

Loki opened his mouth, closed it again. Shook his head like a dog and pounded his fist to dent the floor. An alarm sounded, and the blood drained from Loki's pale face. He looked ready to vomit.

"Deep breaths, Loki. Who. Is. It?"

Finally Loki wrenched around him to glare balefully out the window. "His n-name is Thanos," he spat. He shuddered as he said the words and curled inwards with fresh tears.

Thor held him close, extremely conscious of the seconds slipping by. "You have to help me to help _you_ , Loki," he murmured.

Loki squeezed his hand and sat back up. "H-he's the one that c-c-caught me wh-when I f-f-f-f-fell from the Bifrost," Loki stuttered in a rush. "I was h-his p-p-p-prison-ner buh-b-before N-new York..." Deep breath. Eyes closed. " _He's_ the one that gave me that staff." Deep breath. " _He's_ the one who wanted the T-t-t-tesseract." Loki's grip clenched and unclenched spasmodically. "He hurt me," he gasped.

Thor's heart broke.

Loki's eyes flew open again, and his face was pure rage. " _Don't let him take you alive, Thor_ ," he snarled. He let Thor go with a shove and leapt to his feet. Magic flared about him with a long dagger appearing in each hand. He was now clad in a heavy but flexible leather armor like dragon scales from head to toe, and he bristled with feral power. He sprinted from the room with all the righteous puissance of Odin's lost Destroyer, and Thor ran after him, his own heart thudding in his ears.

 _Trust my rage,_ Loki had said to him once, years or maybe a lifetime ago. Thor did, Norns help him.

If Loki would fight this Thanos character, so would Thor. If Loki was afraid, so was Thor.

 **Author's Note: in which Thor realizes Loki really does have something to worry about. Too bad they never get a chance to breathe... If you're still enjoying, leave a review!**


	11. Chapter 11

None of them had been prepared for a second battle. No one had even been watching for other ships, let alone boarders. They were taken completely by surprise, and the battle was lost as soon as it started. The very first strike of the enemy's energy guns took out the main computer hub before they even got any shields up. Loki and Valkyrie managed to reroute the defense system, but not before five different boarding parties had invaded the ship, dividing most of the unarmed passengers both from any weapons and from their commanders.

"This is the Asgardian refugee vessel Statesman," Valkyrie shouted into the communications panel. "We are under assault, I repeat, we are under assault - The engines are dead, life support failing. Requesting aid from any vessel within range. We are 22 jump points out of Asgard." She cursed as a sword slid into her shoulder and spun around to fight off her attacker.

Out of the corner of his eye, Thor saw Loki finish off his own opponent and pounce on the panel himself. "Our crew is made up of Asgardian families, we have very few soldiers here. This is not a warcraft. I repeat, this is not a warcraft!" He broke off as well as two creatures with an uncanny resemblance to Chitauri latched onto his back and pulled him away.

A few minutes later, the invaders overloaded the damaged engine, destroying the aft half of the ship and everyone in there. Thjalfi, Banner and Korg included, Thor thought with an ache of personal loss. He felt his chest constrict but fought on monotonously. There was nothing else for the "King of Asgard" to do, even though half their survivors had been destroyed in an instant.

They had to retreat back out of the bridge, but they finally managed to vanquish the boarding party of ten aliens of various species. The victory was short-lived as another group burst into the room, led by a giant taller than the Hulk. His skin was a dusky purple like a bruise, and he wore a strange golden gauntlet on his left hand set with a single glowing, violet stone. Loki screamed in fury at the sight of him and flung two daggers in rapid succession, both of which the giant knocked aside with a grin before using his own weapon to decapitate the nearest Asgardian. Valkyrie charged him next, and he swung at her. The impact flung her into the outer wall which was already severely damaged from an earlier energy blast; she broke through and was lost to the void.

Thor started running, but Heimdall got there first. The ancient warrior traded two strikes before taking a massive blow to the torso despite his parrying maneuver. Thor could hear bones snapping from across the room even over the other sounds of renewed fighting as his companions clashed with the five other invaders. Heimdall fell back to the ground with his chest caved in, stunned and coughing blood.

With a yell of rage and grief, Thor swung his fist, and a bolt of electricity flew into the giant. His opponent tensed for just a moment before swinging around to block his next hit. When Thor's fist landed, it felt like he was hitting a stone. But that was fine, Thor told himself frantically. He had hit plenty of stones before. And clearly, judging by his first attack, this thing _could_ be hurt. It was just going to take awhile...

He gathered another blast of lightning, then saw again the flickering force-field blocking the gap in the wall where Valkyrie had just perished. He kicked the monster and cursed as he let the energy dissipate again. The ship was so unstable he would kill them all if he used that kind of power. So he punched and kicked. He was strong, and he could win the hard way if he had to.

Except this _fiend_ was a lot stronger. Physically as strong as Hela, maybe as strong as the Hulk. The next blow threw him through the dividing wall into the neighboring room to collide with one of the central support pillars of the ship. The cracking hull groaned at him. Thor pulled himself back to his feet, but before he had his bearings, he felt a massive hand encasing his skull. He was picked up and abruptly slammed back down. Everything went white as he felt something in his neck snap and pain shoot up into his head and down into his fingers and toes. He lay still, stunned, and afraid to move. In his peripheral vision, he saw his opponent clobber two more of his comrades who had raced to his aid. Then there was silence, and after everything that had happened, _that_ was the most terrifying thing Thor had ever experienced.

"Hear me and rejoice!" chanted another slim alien figure stalking into the room like a predator. "You have had the privilege of being saved by the Great Titan. You may think this is suffering... no. it is salvation. Universal scales tip toward balance because of your sacrifice. Smile!" He stabbed a wounded Asgardian through the chest. "For even in death," he continued, "you have become Children of Thanos."

Thor ignored the speech, staring instead at the hulking figure looming over him. The creature that had single-handedly murdered half of the Asgardians and gladiators in the room. It could only be Thanos, the subject of his brother's nightmares. Thanos turned around and smiled faintly. "I know what it's like to lose," he said gently. "To feel so desperately that you're right, yet to fail, nonetheless." He reached down and picked Thor up by his breastplate, lifting him like a ragdoll. Thor groaned as his head fell back and pain lanced through him. "It's frightening. It turns the legs to jelly. I ask you, to what end? Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same." Loki swung into Thor's view, and he realized who the giant was talking to. Loki was standing stock-still in a fighting stance, surrounded by dead bodies as well as four very alive warriors with weapons trained on him. He gazed up at Thor, and Thanos, with a face so emotionless it could only express defeat. He looked like an automaton, ready to fight except that all the life had drained from him. He hardly seemed to breathe. "And now it's here, or should I say, _I_ _am_ ," Thanos finished. He tossed Thor up with a flick of his wrist and caught him again by his head, eliciting another bolt of pain and a gasp as his neck jerked. Thanos raised his other arm and made a fist with his golden gauntlet and its shining purple stone.

"You talk too much," Thor grunted through gritted teeth, and received a fresh jerk for his trouble. A fatal weakness claimed his body, and he saw stars as he suddenly struggled to breathe.

Thanos smiled at Loki. "The Tesseract...or your brother's head?" He started to squeeze. "I assume you have a preference."

"Oh, I do. Kill away." His voice was flat.

Thanos' faint grunt expressed surprise briefly before he shrugged and pressed the gauntlet to Thor's left temple. The stone embedded in it glowed brightly, and Thor screamed, though his voice was weak and hoarse. It was the worst thing he had ever felt.

Distantly through the pain, Thor heard Loki shout, "ALL RIGHT, STOP!" The pain ceased as abruptly as it had started, and Thor squinted at his brother.

"We don't have the Tesseract," Thor wheezed after a moment. "It was destroyed on Asgard."

Without a word, without hesitating, Loki bowed his head and raised a hand. The Tesseract materialized above his palm.

Thor cursed inwardly as his insides turned to water. The Titan would be unstoppable. "You really are the worst, brother," he said bitterly. He couldn't help it. It was one thing to be defeated and die. It was quite another to hand the entire universe over to the enemy at the same time.

Loki stiffened, appearing almost as if he was listening to something the rest of them couldn't hear. "I assure you, brother," he said slowly, "the sun will shine on us again."

Thanos squeezed Thor's head again. "Your optimism is misplaced, Asgardian."

Loki looked up at him again with a wry grin. Thor could see the hate when he barred his teeth and said, "Well, for one thing, I'm not Asgardian. And for another, we have the Hulk."

Out of nowhere, the Hulk's deafening roar exploded around them. Thanos dropped Thor immediately as he was tackled from behind, and somehow Loki caught him, cradled him, letting the Tesseract fall and bounce away. And here Thor had thought Banner lost with the rest of the refugees in the other half of the ship...Loki must have done something, snatched him up with his magic, he thought blearily. He felt the warmth of a healing spell caress his broken neck. Loki smiled at his surprised expression. "You have to get out of here," he whispered, barely audible over the distant roars and crashes of the Hulk's fistfight with the Titan.

"What...?" Thor started to ask, but his thoughts were sluggish and confused.

"Shhhh..." Loki winced as a pained howl reached them. The voice was Banner's, and it was followed by a thump that shook the floor and caused the ship's hull to screech and groan anew. Loki held a finger to his lips and stood again. He turned his back on Thor. He had another of his knives hidden in his hand.

Thor heard Heimdall muttering from across the room but couldn't make out the words, though he was amazed the man still possessed the strength to speak. There was a burst of rainbow light. It thrust Thanos aside and carried the limp form of the Hulk out of the hole in the bulkhead to be lost in the dark vastness of space. Thanos bellowed in rage, and Thor heard rather than saw him stab Heimdall. He felt the warmth of the Watcher's soul wash over them, and a sob escaped him unchecked. Heimdall was the last of the Old Guard, the last elder of their kind, and he was gone.

Thor lolled his head over and saw one of Thanos' minions reverently place the glowing Tesseract in the victorious Titan's hand. "My humble personage bows before your grandeur. No other being has ever had the might, nay the nobility, to wield not one, but two Infinity Stones. The universe lies within your grasp!" The minion fairly purred in ecstacy. They were religious fanatics, it occurred to Thor as they swayed around their master. All of them fanatics in a sick ritual that demanded a sacrifice of genocide. Despite everything his people had suffered, Asgard was finally dead, for the glory of a maniac.

Thanos ignored the melodrama and crushed the cube in his bare fist. Blinding light flared for an instant then dimmed again to reveal the Infinity Stone at its heart. Thor heard Loki suck in a breath, and he knew why. There was a reason the stone had been held inside the Tesseract - to touch an Infinity Stone with bare skin was to risk one's life and even soul. Yet Thanos stood completely unruffled by the limitless power held lightly in his fingers. It should have been impossible. Almost casually, the Titan guided the stone to join the other in his gauntlet, with another flare of light. He smiled with satisfaction. "There are two more stones on Earth," he said softly. "Find them, my children. Bring them to me on Titan."

"Father, we will not fail you."

Loki stepped forward with false confidence. "If I might interject," the others spun around to look at him, "if you're going to Earth, you might want a guide. I do have a bit of experience in that arena."

Thanos snorted derisively. "If you consider failure experience."

Loki shrugged. "I consider experience experience. Almighty Thanos, I... Loki... Prince of Asgard..." he looked at Thor still lying on the floor. Thor despaired. If Loki was wearing a mask, it wasn't a good one. He could see everything in his brother's eyes: love, fear, despair, and acceptance. Whatever he was planning, it would be suicide. "Odinson..." Loki looked back to Thanos and took a step forward. "The rightful King of Jotunheim..." Another step. "God of Mischief..." Another step. "Do hereby pledge to you, my undying fidelity."

Loki braced himself and thrust upward with lightning speed in an attempt to stab Thanos. His strike froze in place by the Space Stone's power before the point could strike home. He hung half suspended by his motionless arm. Caught. His eyes widened in sudden panic. Another dagger materialized in his left hand and slashed at his right forearm in a vain attempt to free himself; that was caught as well.

"Undying," Thanos chuckled. "You should choose your words more carefully. You know better than to give me ideas like that."

The Titan twisted the daggers out of Loki's hands one at a time, then grabbed him by the neck with the gauntlet and lifted him to eye level. Loki struggled and kicked, choked as his throat collapsed. He briefly met Thor's gaze before his eyes closed.

"No!" Thor shouted and labored to get up.

Loki stopped struggling, but one last grin spread across his _still living_ cheeks. "You will never be a god," he mouthed. Thanos glowered and crushed Loki's neck. Thor felt as if his own heart stopped and his own neck again snapped as Loki's head gradually twisted to the side in an unnatural angle.

Thanos slowly turned and walked over to Thor. He dropped Loki's body in front of him like a stone. "No resurrections this time," he said simply. He raised the gauntlet, and violet power crackled through the remains of the ship which started to disintegrate. A flare of blue light teleported the Titan and all his minions away.

"No… Loki…" Thor crawled forwards to place a hand on Loki's waxen face, then gathered his little brother's body into his arms and rested his head on the lifeless chest.

Beneath his cheek, he felt a spark of green magic, and a terribly fast, weak, and irregular beating of the heart. He held on tight, refusing to let go of this one hope even as the ship crumpled around them and the air evacuated, leaving them both adrift in cold and empty space.

 **Author's note: Thjalfi is a comic book reference. Poor thing, all Loki wanted was to spare Thor from the fate he knew he would not escape. Stay tuned and review...**


	12. Chapter 12

"Why are we doing this again?" Rocket asked for the sixth time.

Gamora glanced at him in annoyance. "It's a distress signal, Rocket. Someone could be dying."

"I get that, but why are we doing it?"

"'Cause we're nice," Peter Quill chimed in from his captain's chair where he was spinning in lazy circles. "And maybe whoever it is will give us a little cheddar cheese for our help."

By that, he meant money. Rocket grinned and licked his lips.

Gamora shook her finger at their captain. "Which isn't the point," she reminded him.

"Which isn't the point..." Quill echoed suggestively, "Because... I mean… if he doesn't pony up….

"We'll take his ship," Drax said happily as the blue and red giant reclaimed his own chair.

"Exactly!" Rocket snickered.

"Bingo!" Quill said.

Gamora looked up at Quill in concern, and they shared a long, cow-eyed look that seemed to reassure the lady. Rocket wished they would just do it already. The sexual tension was getting on his nerves.

"We are arriving," Mantis commented, looking up from her console.

Quill set his feet on the floor and clapped his hands together. "All right, Guardians. Don't forget, this might be dangerous, so let's put on our mean faces." At this suggestion, Groot rolled his eyes as Mantis snarled. Groot's handheld Terran-vintage video game beeped irritatingly. "Groot, put that thing away. Now. I don't wanna tell you again." Groot ignored him. "Groot."

"I am Groot!" he said, and there was no mistaking his mocking tone.

There was a chorus of dumbfounded objections from the rest of the crew at the teenaged tree's coarseness. Even Rocket winced.

"You got some acorns on you, kid," Quill whistled appreciatively.

Rocket snorted. "Ever since you got a little sap, you're a total d-hole. Keep it up, and I'm gonna smash that thing to pieces!" Groot rolled his eyes again but then straightened up to stare out the window. The ship had decelerated, and all the Guardians could see was devastation stretching out into the darkness. There was no distress signal to pick up anymore, and no ship left. Bodies floated dead in space along with the pieces of the shredded ship. Gamora shuddered as she watched a frozen child drift by. They should have come faster.

"What happened?" Mantis murmured quietly.

"Looks like we're not getting paid," Rocket said in a weak attempt at a joke.

With a thump, two bodies plastered onto the window of the bridge, a huge blonde man with frozen hands still clasped around a slighter, darker man, both bearing the evidence of their final battle.

Rocket waved his hands, face twisted in disgust. "Wipers! Wipers! Get it off!"

The blonde man's one eye opened, to the shock of everyone.

"I am Groot!" Groot shouted after a moment of stunned silence.

"Get him on board!" Gamora echoed instantly, leaping to her feet.

* * *

After five frantic minutes, the Guardians had settled both the strange men onto an examination table in the medical bay. Both were frigid, and they had been unable to extricate the blonde man who was clearly alive though unconscious again from the other one who seemed clearly dead. They might just need to thaw at this point to disentangle them, in all honesty.

"How the hell is this dude still alive?" Quill said, voicing the question they all were wondering. They had checked a couple other random bodies, and everyone else was definitely expired.

"He is not a dude," Drax objected in an awed tone. "You're a dude. This... this is a man. A handsome, muscular man." He was quite muscular, Rocket had to agree. Both Mantis and Gamora seemed to find him quite... shapely. With short-cropped blonde hair and, indeed, a handsome face despite the eye patch. He had an impressively sharp jawline beneath his short beard. Could probably cut razors with his chin rather than the other way around. The other man in contrast was slim with narrow, almost pinched features, though Rocket suspected Drax and their female companions might be swooning over him as well if he filled out a little more. Too late for that, though. His ample black locks did nothing to hide the dark bruising and swelling engulfing his entire neck that must have killed him.

"I'm muscular," Quill muttered irrelevantly.

"Who are you kidding, Quill? You're one sandwich away from fat," Rocket said.

"Yeah, right. Gamora, do you think..."

"Only a _man_ could love another man so much as to keep hold of him even in death," Drax continued over the others' comments, sounding close to tears, which had to be a first for the exuberantly violent warrior.

 _"That's_ your definition of a man, Drax? Wow."

"He is anxious," Mantis said suddenly. "Angry. He feels tremendous loss and guilt."

"It's like a pirate had a baby with an angel," Drax gushed.

"Wow..." Quill said again.

Gamora circled around Drax's side and traced her fingers along the blonde stranger's left arm which was wrapped around the other man's shoulder with the hand cradling the head. She stroked his triceps. "It's like his muscles are made of Cotati metal fibers," she said, obviously impressed despite herself.

"This is a real wake-up call for me. Okay. I'm gonna get a Bow-flex. I'm gonna commit. I'm gonna get some dumbbells," Quill said to himself.

"You know you can't eat dumbbells, right?" Rocket jibed as he poked the stranger's thigh with one finger. It was, indeed, firm. The guy could probably crack walnuts with his legs.

"Stop massaging his muscles," Quill snapped irritably at his crew.

Gamora, looking rather annoyed at Quill, turned to Mantis. "Wake him up."

Mantis without further ado placed a hand on the stranger's forehead. "Wake."

The blonde man regained consciousness suddenly with a loud cry. He jerked and half rolled, half fell off the table, the other man finally slipping from his now-limp grasp. The stranger stood and stumbled a few steps away, then turned to see his hosts all pointing their weapons of choice at him (except Groot, who was still playing his game).

"Who the hell are you guys?" he slurred, with a deeply resonant voice that Rocket could feel in his chest. Then the stranger's eyes dropped back to the table. "Loki!" He rushed forward again to hover over the corpse, shaking hands passing over the lifeless face and gingerly probing the neck area before feeling for a pulse in the wrist. He ignored them for a very long time while he did so, and they all lowered their weapons. All of them, not just Mantis, could feel the pain, fear, and loss radiating off him.

"What a _man,_ " Drax whispered to himself. Rocket noticed Mantis biting her lip.

Quill cleared his throat. "Hi. I'm Peter Quill, aka the Star Lord. This is Gamora, Rocket, Mantis, Drax, and Groot. We rescued you. You're welcome." The stranger didn't look up from his intense study of the corpse he'd brought with him. They must have been good friends, Rocket thought, maybe even lovers as Drax had clearly decided. He was still gazing at the two in rapture. "Um..." Quill continued, sounding a little deflated. "Who are you? And who attacked you?"

The stranger finally looked up. "I am Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, recently crowned King of Asgard, which is no more. Thanos is our destroyer." His voice was bitter, and it broke towards the end of his little speech. Drax gasped and Gamora reached out to Quill to steady herself. Well, they were in for interesting times, Rocket thought, with a flutter in his chest.

 **Author's note: I'm not going to go all the way through Infinity War in quite the same way... because. But you do get a little bit. With some epilogue-ish things too. Let me know what you think in the reviews :)**


	13. Chapter 13

The group slouched around the table, watching Thor slowly slurp soup after he had finally finished warming up and telling the short version of his story. Rocket took the opportunity to clean his favorite gun and also under his claws.

"The entire time I knew Thanos, he only ever had one goal: to bring balance to the universe by wiping out half of all life. He used to kill people planet by planet, massacre by massacre..." Gamora said.

"Including my own," Drax said.

"If he gets all six Infinity Stones, he can do it with the snap of his fingers, like this." Gamora snapped her own fingers and shivered as she did.

"You seem to know a great deal about Thanos," Thor said suspiciously.

"Gamora... is the daughter of Thanos," Drax supplied.

"Your father killed my people!" Thor stood and stepped towards Gamora aggressively, brandishing his spoon.

Quill broke in. "Oh, boy. Stepfather. Technically, she hates him as much as you do." Thor softened a bit.

"Families can be tough," Thor admitted, clapping Gamora on the shoulder. "Before my father died, he told me I had a half-sister... that he imprisoned in Hel. Then she returned home, and stabbed me in the eye, so... I had to kill her. It's life, isn't it? I guess. Goes round and round and... Then there's my brother. I feel your pain."

Quill glared at Thor's hand on Gamora's shoulder, on the verge of full snarl, and moved around her to push between her and Thor. It was funny, Rocket thought, how possessive the Starlord had become even though he had yet to even kiss Gamora's beautiful green lips. "And I feel your pain, as well," Quill said with a touch of bravado. "I mean it's not a competition, but I've been through a lot. My father killed my mother, then I had to kill my father. And that was hard. Probably even harder than having to kill a sister. Plus, I came out of it with both of my eyes-"

Thor, amusingly, didn't even seem to notice Quill's breast beating, so lost in his own woes. It was like watching two big, dumb, pretty soap opera stars collide. "I need a hammer, not a spoon…"

Rocket cleared his throat. "Speaking of your brother...how long are we keeping him?"

"What?"

"I mean, it is sad and all, but we can't really leave too many corpses lying around on the ship. There's not a lot of freezer space. It would smell pretty quick."

Thor glared at him. "My brother is not dead. He will stay under your protection until he wakes up. Or else."

"I am Groot?"

Rocket nodded. "What he said. I'm pretty good at telling live from dead, and your Loki chap is dead."

"No he isn't."

"Mantis is telepathic," Gamora said soothingly, "and even she can't feel his mind. He's gone."

"She wouldn't. I believe he's used the Sleep of the Living Dead on himself again."

"Come again?" Quill asked.

"That and a healing spell. He used one on me first, then must have used one on himself with the Sleep of the Living Dead. He's done it before." He looked at their surprised and confused faces with some amusement. "Did you really think I survived floating in space while all the rest of my people had died _without_ magical aid...?" His face fell again as he realized what he had said.

Rocket shrugged. He'd heard of that kind of spell before but never encountered anyone with the ability to actually work it. "That would do it, I guess. You're brother's a lunatic to try something like that though. He might not wake up, you realize."

"I know. But he _will_ have his chance." Seeming fortified by this determined statement, he looked around the room with renewed purpose, eyes narrowing as he realized he was leaning against the emergency pod. He started to fiddle with the machinery, then growled in frustration. "How do I open this thing? Is there some sort of a four-digit code maybe… maybe a birth date or something…"

"What are you doing?" Quill asked.

"Taking your pod," Thor said in a voice of unconscious command as if it should be obvious.

"No you're not!" The Guardians all looked around at the Starlord, as his voice was suddenly much deeper than usual. "You'll not be taking our pod today, sir." Rocket grinned as he realized he was mimicking Thor's accent.

"Quill. Are you making your voice deeper?" Rocket asked, delighted.

"No."

"You are. You're imitating the god-man. It's weird," Drax said. He looked positively affronted, which Rocket supposed was hardly surprising given his near-worship of Thor ever since the Asgardian had arrived.

"No I'm not."

Mantis gasped. "He just did it again!"

"This is my voice!"

Thor stepped close to Quill, his expression dangerous. "Are you mocking me?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Stop it. You did it again."

"He's trying to copy me," Quill protested, slowly grinning himself.

"Would you stop doing that? He's doing it first," Thor said in consternation.

"Enough!" Gamora said, ruining the moment for them all. She really was a party-pooper, Rocket thought mournfully. "We need to stop Thanos. Which means we need to find out where he's going next."

"We also need a weapon that can stand against him, hence I need to take your pod. Do you think Loki will fit in here? No... probably not the both of us if he's lying down. Can't really fold him up either..."

 **Author's note: I couldn't leave you hanging too long after that last chapter, it would be mean. You all know what happens next, dear Readers. The Infinity War plays out exactly as expected. The only question remaining is, what happens at the end?**

 **Also, if you're terribly distressed to be nearing the end of this Loki fic, check out some of my others. There are several.**


	14. Chapter 14

There wasn't exactly a safe place to take his brother in the mad dash to intercept the Titan, so Thor trusted the Guardians of the Galaxy with guardianship of Loki. The Guardians were now pursuing the Titan to...Titan probably. Thor wasn't sure about the specifics, honestly. Thor had his own task in finding a weapon capable of destroying the monster, and eventually, he knew Thanos would come to Midgard for the last stone, so that's where he would wait.

Everything was going according to plan. He felt not good, but confident.

He would avenge Loki, avenge all of Asgard.

Loki would survive.

Then they would live together as lone refugees on Midgard until their long heritage was finally dead.

That was not _much_ to look forward to, but at least Thor had very little left to lose.

"Hey, you okay?" Thor looked up to see the rabbit watching him from the other side of the cramped pod.

"'Course," Thor said. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"You're crying."

"I am Groot?" The tree looked up.

Startled, Thor realized they were right. He hadn't even noticed, but his cheeks _were_ wet. He reached up to wipe away the tears, and his hand shook. "I'm... fine." Thor said at last. "Just thinking."

He wasn't in control anymore, not of this situation and not of himself. He had never been one to be alone, and he was afraid of what was coming. Almost everyone he had ever known was gone. If Loki _didn't_ survive, Thor did not know what he would do. He didn't know how to live alone, and all of his remaining friends were mortal. They would all be gone in fifty years or so. Thor was the last of his species. The idea was huge and horrifying and incomprehensible. Thor could not imagine going on and on with nobody to share that existence with... Loki had to live. His sanity depended on his brother's survival.

Whether or not Thor and Loki survived though, Asgard was dead. There was a loss of home that tore at him, and he could not face it now.

 _How does one continue when so much has been lost?_ Thor wished Loki could wake up and be fine and tell him the answer to that question. Although he already knew the answer from watching Loki in the past few weeks - _n_ _ot well, not easily... but achingly strong when it counts_.

He closed his mind to his doubts. He knew what he had to do right now: keep Loki safe and stop Thanos. After that, he was not so sure, but he didn't want to face that uncertainty. He couldn't bear to contemplate the things that had just happened for more than a few seconds... he didn't want to admit to himself what had just happened... He didn't have the strength to face the past or the long, uncertain future, but he had plenty of anger fuelling his immediate thirst for vengeance.

The urgency of the present was enough to keep him occupied, for now. He let himself focus on the most immediate task of stopping Thanos.

Thanos, the destroyer of Thor's kind. The nightmare that Loki had barely survived only to sacrifice himself to protect Thor from the same fate... Loki had betrayed Thor more times than he could count, but he had also saved Thor at his own risk even more often. And now he lay at death's door for Thor's sake. The least Thor could do was wreck Thanos on his brother's, and all of Asgard's, behalf.

"It's okay to be sad," Rocket said hesitantly, as if he was unused to speaking sincerely.

"I'm just thinking about bashing in the head of that damn Titan," Thor said firmly.

"...Okay that works too." After a moment of awkward silence while Thor glared out the window and listened to the Tree shifting around in the aft of the pod, the Rabbit sighed. "Okay, time to be the captain," he grumbled, walking to a nearby console and pressing some buttons. "So... dead brother, huh? Yeah, that can be annoying."

"He's not dead," Thor said automatically, even as his stomach swirled. He shook his head wearily. "He might end up that way though," he said softly, tasting the forbidden truth. It was bitter.

"And you said your sister and your dad?"

"Both dead."

"Still got a mom, though?"

"Killed by a dark elf." Thor was starting to get irritated by the Rabbit, who clearly hadn't been listening back on the other ship when he had told the Guardians that _all_ of his people were gone.

"A best friend?"

"Stabbed through the heart."

"Are you sure you're up to this particular murder mission?"

Thor found himself smiling again despite himself. It was actually comforting in a way to hear another echoing his own doubts. It normalized the feeling, and Thor needed that. "Absolutely. Rage, vengeance, anger, loss, regret... they're all tremendous motivators. They really clear the mind. So I'm good to go." His own argument sounded stronger now that he could voice it out loud.

"Yeah, but this Thanos we're talking about," the Rabbit pointed out. "There's no room for error, no room for distraction. He's the toughest there is."

"Well, he's never fought me," Thor said.

"Yeah, he has!" the Rabbit said, incredulous.

Right... "He's never fought me twice. And I'm getting a new hammer, don't forget," Thor said petulantly. To be fair, he _had_ been severely handicapped last time, unprepared and on a ship in space, filled with vulnerable refugees. Next time, he would be fighting alone, on solid ground, with no one else to protect. Hopefully.

"Better be some hammer," Rocket grunted, turning back to his own console.

"You know, I'm 1,500 years old. I've killed twice as many enemies as that, and every one would have rather killed me, but none succeeded," Thor mused. "I'm only alive because fate wants me alive. Thanos is the latest in a long line of bastards and he will be the latest to feel my vengeance. Fate wills it so."

"And what if you're wrong?"

"If I'm wrong then... what more could I lose?" Just like that, his argument came full circle. Thor sniffed and hastily wiped below his eye again. He stood up and joined Groot, now at the front of the pod.

Vaguely, Thor heard the Rabbit muttering under his breath, then, "Okay. If fate does want you to kill that crapsack... you're gonna need more than one stupid eyeball." He held out a cybernetic eye, which Thor accepted with surprise. These were rare, and even he had never seen one before. Odin, Protector of the Realms for centuries, had never acquired one.

"What's this?"

"What's it look like? Some jerk lost a bet with me on on Contraxia."

"He gave you his _eye_?" Must have been some bet.

"He gave me 100 credits. I snuck in later that night and stole his eye."

"Thank you, sweet Rabbit." He jammed the eyeball into his socket and winced slightly as the device instantly started hacking his damaged optic nerve. It felt like his eye was being ripped out again rather than the other way around.

"Huh? Oh. I would've washed that. The only way I could sneak it off Contraxia was up my..." An alarm went off, distracting him. "Hey, we're here!"

Thor was dizzy as the eye spun around discordantly. He couldn't tell what was out the viewscreen. "I don't think this thing works. Everything seems dark."

"It ain't the eye," the Rabbit said grimly.

Finally, Thor's new eye stopped jerking, and he was able to focus on what he was seeing. For the first time in centuries, Nidavellir was dark. Not only was it dark, it was motionless. The forge was cold. The world was dead.

 **Author's note: who's better at coping, Thor or Loki? Definitely still Thor, to be honest, but he's not unaffected. Sorry my work schedule is busy again, so updates will be a little more delayed. In the meantime, leave a review and read some of my other stories.**


	15. Chapter 15

Thor, the Rabbit, and the Tree walked through the forges of Nidavellir, which were forsaken and dark, wrecked as though left to decay for eons. Thor had last visited a bare month before Odin's death and Hela's arrival on Asgard. He did not understand what had happened, what _could_ have happened to destroy the forges this way... It was just outside the realm of his experience.

"I hope these dwarves are better at forging than they are cleaning. Maybe they realized they live in a junk pile in the middle of space and left," the Rabbit commented

"This forge hasn't gone dark in centuries..." Thor said to himself. He kept repeating that every couple of minutes as they walked, stuck on the thought. He still hadn't come up with anything more, and they had been walking for almost an hour. The only thing that had changed was the slowly growing stench of smoke and perhaps lingering burnt flesh.

The Rabbit stopped suddenly behind him, and the Tree's game finally fell quiet. "You said Thanos had a gauntlet, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Look anything like that?" Thor looked around. The Rabbit was pointing at a mold for a huge war gauntlet. In fact, it looked exactly like Thanos' version.

"I am Groot," the Tree said uneasily.

"Go back to the pod," Thor commanded urgently, just as a massive figure leapt out at them from the shadows, flinging Thor aside with one swipe of his arm. He kicked the Rabbit and Tree against a wall of equipment.

Thor recognized him with relief. "Eitri, wait! Stop!" he shouted.

The gigantic dwarf paused. "Thor?"

Thor pulled himself back out of the wreckage of an engine. "What happened here?" he asked.

"You were supposed to protect us. Asgard was supposed to protect us!" Eitri shouted, enraged. He pulled himself up to his full height, nearly twice as tall as Thor.

"Asgard is destroyed," Thor said quickly. Eitri deflated. Only then did Thor pause to study his onetime friend and vassal. The king of the dwarves bore all the signs of a heavy beating. And his hands... Thor shuddered at the sight. His hands were crippled, encased in gruesome gloves of cast iron poured over the living tissue. His forearms were burned where they met the metal at the wrist. Thor forced his gaze away from the injury and found himself staring at the gauntlet instead, though the thought of burning hands refused to leave. "Eitri, the glove. What did you do?"

Eitri sank onto another pile of broken machinery. "Three hundred dwarves lived on this ring. I thought if I did what he asked, they'd be safe. I made what he wanted. A device capable of harnessing the power of the stones. Then he killed everyone anyway. All except me. 'Your life is yours,' he said. 'But your hands are mine alone.'" He held up his ruined hands and grinned bitterly.

Thor shook his head. Every new perspective he gained on Thanos was worse and worse. He shuddered to think what his poor brother might have endured as the fiend's prisoner. But Thor's resolve was only hardened. The imperative to stop the Titan was only strengthened.

The plan was still sound.

"Eitri," he said firmly, "this isn't about your hands. Every weapon you've ever designed... every ax, hammer, sword... it's all inside your head. Now I know it feels like all hope is lost. Trust me, I know. But together, you and I, we can kill Thanos."

* * *

It took them another hour or more of digging through the rubble to find what they needed, and Thor had never seen anything more beautiful.

"This is the plan?" The Rabbit said dubiously. "We're gonna hit him with a brick?"

"It's a mold," Eitri corrected. "A king's weapon. Meant to be the greatest in Asgard. In theory, it could even summon the Bifrost."

"Did it have a name?" Thor asked brightly.

"Stormbreaker."

"That's a bit much," the Rabbit scoffed. Thor wasn't sure whether he should be irritated by his companion or amused by him.

Honestly, the name seemed pretty good to Thor, although it unfortunately sounded more like a weapon directed _against_ the God of Thunder than one wielded by him. But that was just a semantic quibble and entirely irrelevant, really. "So how do we make it?" Thor asked.

"You'll have to restart the forge. Awaken the heart of a dying star," Eitri grunted as he awkwardly maneuvered the mold.

Both Eitri and the Rabbit clearly had their doubts about the plan, and the Tree seemed too distracted by his game to care, but Thor had _no_ doubts. With the help of the little pod's engine, he moved the rings, and with that shuddering start the star's gravity did the rest, settling them back into their endless mazy motion. When the iris encasing the star failed and folded closed around the furnace, Thor stood in the heart of the radiation and forced it open. Nothing, not even the blaze of a stellar core, could stop him today.

He pushed himself, he really did, possibly farther than he had ever pushed himself before. His entire being was hot and dry, and it was all he could do to maintain consciousness when he slammed back into the forge proper. Even with his baked body near collapse, the power of the storm surged within him and clutched his soul fast. He would not die today.

Eitri, the Tree, and even the Rabbit saw it. They completed the metallurgy as Thor lay spent. Eitri's mind... the Rabbit's hands... and the young Tree's own arm.

Newborn Stormbreaker hearkened immediately to the need for justice screaming in his blood and bolstered him further, quenching his burns instantly. Stormbreaker was a thousand times more powerful than his Mjolnir had been, Thor realized giddily. The Tree... Groot made the new weapon into Stormbreaker, a weapon forged in the pyres of two worlds, with all their ancestral strength contained within. Groot sacrificed an arm, and might have saved the universe.

Thor opened his eyes and rose to his feet.

He smiled at his companions and delighted in the electricity pricking at his fingertips and the power burgeoning within his axe.

He was ready and could not fail now.

 **Author's note: the final chapters are drafted, will post in a reasonable time. Thoughts? Questions? Reviews?**


	16. Chapter 16

Their arrival on Midgard was glorious.

Thor and Groot and the Rabbit landed in a blaze of rainbow light as the Bifrost shone once more through the power of _the_ greatest war axe _ever_ , Stormbreaker. Thor threw the axe, and an electromagnetic pulse boomed out in all directions followed by countless lightning strikes that routed Thanos' invading army instantly. "Bring me THANOS!" he roared as Stormbreaker returned to his hand. He raised the axe over his head and leapt into the action, hunting for his enemy. As he did, he cast about and noted that in addition to a large human army riding large, gray beasts with horned noses, almost all of the Avengers were also on the field, including Banner. He felt a surge of relief for the physicist: one less friend lost. While Banner whooped a greeting, most of the rest Avengers stared at him in something akin to awed disbelief. A warm glow of rekindled friendship lifted his mood from determined confidence to eager anticipation. The team was back together; they would win today.

Thor could use a victory... He squashed the sudden wistful thoughts of the family and friends and fragments of his home planet he had left drifting dead in space. The God of Thunder had only one goal, to strike the Titan down. He couldn't think about anything else right now, and he was itching for revenge.

His enemy wasn't here yet, but he would come. Until then, the rest of the Titan's invading army was a trifle, really. He blasted all-comers out of his way effortlessly. It was easy, almost boring, almost beneath him. Easy was fine by Thor though, after everything else that he had dealt with lately.

* * *

There was a lull in the fighting, and then a... change.

Thor met the wide eyes of the nearest humans and even the nearest crippled alien invader. They all were feeling the same thing, he realized. The universe itself had paused, watching and waiting with an existential dread. Thor spun around, looking for the source, knowing what he would find. He had missed Thanos' arrival, somehow. _Somehow._ Then he was off, flying towards the fragment of coruscating glory by the trees. Where the Vision, and the Witch, and the Captain had been.

Thanos stood there studying the completed Infinity Gauntlet. Without a cohesive thought, Thor stuck him with a massive lightning bolt that drove him backwards, past the lifeless android and several wounded and weeping humans that he did _not_ have time for right now. This was the moment. He was prepared. The God of Thunder gathered his power, lifted Stormbreaker above his head and hurled it at Thanos. The Titan in turn raised the Infinity Gauntlet, but the mighty axe sailed straight through the multi-colored fire to slam right into Thanos' chest, stopping him cold.

Thor exulted. He had won... he had told himself he could, told everyone else he could, but that was entirely different from seeing it happen in reality.

He alighted in front of the wounded Titan, breathing hard. His voice fairly crackled with electricity as he spat, "I told you you'd die for that!" He grabbed Thanos' head, slammed him into the ground and pressed the axe deeper into his chest, grinding against bone.

Time slowed. Thor had never revelled in the killing part of war, but this one time, it was just _so_ satisfying. The monster beneath him had destroyed so many lives...this was not only vengeance but reparation and justice. For Asgard and Nidavellir ruined forever, for Heimdall, Korg and Valkyrie lost in cold space, for Loki clinging to life by a thread, for Eitri left maimed with all his people massacred, even for that green-skinned Guardian and her big friend whose names he couldn't remember. And for himself - for everyone who had ever lost anyone to this murderer.

Thanos' weak voice reached him through his heady haze of victory. "You should have..." Thor glared at him, willing him to die. "You..." The Titan bared his teeth suddenly and finished clearly, "you should have gone for the head." Thor's eyes widened as the enemy raised the gauntlet and snapped his fingers.

"NO!" Thor screamed, recognizing his error and his failure instantly.

 _What had he done?_

* * *

Loki was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, but he couldn't wake up.

Sometimes he dreamed of nonsense: he was a child in Asgard stealing sweets, or training in knife-fighting, or using his magic to disguise himself as a serpent, trying to trick Thor. Sometimes he dreamed he was trying to decipher a new spell from a book that was written in three different languages, none of which he knew. Sometimes he dreamed of his parents. Sometimes he dreamed Thor was King of Asgard, and Loki his right hand. These dreams were particularly lighthearted as the brothers sneaked away from their duties to adventure together or cause mischief for the elders of the court as they used to. Sometimes he dreamed _he_ ruled Asgard, which was always surprisingly tedious. Those dreams were filled with irritating administrative problems which he pondered endlessly without ever reaching a solution.

More often, his dreams were less pleasant. He dreamt of a long fall. Of course he did. Most people do, and he had every reason to, although he wasn't always sure what that meant. But unlike the normal dreams of falling that end with a quick jerk to clammy wakefulness, this fall was without end. Monotonous even, at least while the dream continued. The fall was accompanied however by that ever-present yet intangible dread - the fear of what would happen when the ground struck. He never knew exactly what would happen, only that it would be terrible.

He dreamt of pain so all-consuming it was impossible to define, inflicted by a blind, priest-like figure with iron jaws. That dream never lasted long before his mind retreated to utter oblivion.

He dreamt of endless battle in which he was a foot-soldier, with no idea who he was fighting or why, only that he couldn't stop if he wanted to stay alive. Staying alive was the last hope left to him...

He dreamt of mistakes he had made. He dreamt of problems yet to solve. He dreamt of conversations yet to be had, a grim rehearsal for when he finally managed to wake up again. He didn't know _why_ it was taking so long for him to awaken, and that was one of the questions his confused and sleeping mind returned to often and puzzled over. He always concluded he must be ill in some way, but he could never identify the illness.

There was a dream cycle he found particularly disturbing. A great, green monster had hold of his legs and thrashed him against hard stone. Then he realized the monster's victim was actually Thor, and he was the one watching and crowing in ugly victory, "Yes, that's what it _feels_ like!" The monster heard him and turned to stare at him, green skin darkening and shifting to a deep, dangerous purple that always filled him with dread. The monster took hold of Thor's neck and crushed his brother dead. Except at that point, it was always Loki again in the monster's grasp, suffocating and paralyzed. Thor was the one watching. Thor was the one filled with fear and dread. Thor was the one who continued on, desperate to fight back and change what was happening. Loki was the one dying. Somehow, he didn't die though, and Thor came to him. Every time Thor came to him, he had tears in his eyes, and they weren't for Loki but for himself.

"I tried so hard, brother," Thor would say in a voice shocked and shaking and ashamed. "I fought so hard and it wasn't enough. I failed everyone, especially you, especially myself... I don't know how to go on. I feel... I am helpless. I _am_ worthless. I am afraid."

At that point, Loki always nodded, even though his neck remained broken and off-kilter. "Yes, that's what it feels like," he said. At the end of that dream, he was always falling again and dreading what would happen when he hit the ground.

Time is relative in dreams, therefore it seemed an infinite time with infinite repetitions of the dreams before something new penetrated Loki's consciousness. There was a snapping sound like a thousand million threads breaking. A pulse of power ripped through the snug cocoon of his magic that Loki had not even been able to sense around the confines of his dream world. He had no idea what it meant. Then the dreams finally ended.

 **Author's note: So yeah. If _Ragnarok_ was Thor's peak, _Infinity War_ is Thor's fall. Stay tuned for the epilogues, and leave a review.**


	17. Epilogue 1

Epilogue 1

The small yacht the Grandmaster had been using to survey the fighting crashed rather inconveniently into one of the megaliths of garbage that formed the centerpiece of his capital city on Sakaar. Apparently, he should have paid more attention to the shots aimed at his driver, but that was neither here nor there, the Grandmaster thought giddily. He tossed some wreckage aside to emerge from the heap. He was, naturally, entirely unscathed from the terrific crash. "Oh, boy." The Grandmaster beamed at a spunky pack of rebels that slowly surrounded him as he straightened up. "I just gotta say, I'm proud of you all. This revolution has been a huge success. Yay, us!"

The rebels stood in silent awe of their quarry.

"Pat on the back," the Grandmaster told one encouragingly. "Pat on the back," he said again to the ragamuffin who looked like he was probably the acting leader of this particular group. The ragamuffin fidgeted, apparently unwilling to give the final order that was the elephant in their metaphorical room: no one at all attacked, somewhat disappointingly.

"Come on. No?" Maybe they were shy. He gestured expansively - they had really done a great job! Teamwork at its finest. "I mean, me too. Pat on the back, Me. 'Cause I've been a big part of it. Can't have a revolution without somebody to overthrow. So, you're welcome." Still, awkwardly, no one said anything. Maybe they were just a little bit stupid?

"And it's a tie," the Grandmaster said generously. That seemed to relieve the tension considerably, and the rebels lowered their weapons, nodding agreeably.

The Grandmaster was taken into custody quite amicably and released the very next day to return to his second villa with those of his close friends and servants who wished to help take care of his adopted children. It was a surprisingly large number, including several newly medalled war heroes. The Grandmaster's grandiose lifestyle continued with nary a blip, except for a sudden, remarkable decline in executions. It was a lot less stressful letting other people rule the planet, the Grandmaster found. The rebellion had been good for everyone. It was inconvenient that two of his favorite pets and several of his favorite gladiators had disappeared in the revolution, along with two of his ships, but these things happened. It would work out in the end, and he would get what he wanted back.

The rest of Sakaar decided their new government should be a democracy. The Grandmaster sent a note endorsing this wholeheartedly and sponsored a parade in honor of the new elections.

The elections failed to happen, however, as that was the Day of Death. Half the survivors of the revolution including the leading candidates for prime minister vanished into dust a few minutes after the polls opened. In the ensuing mass panic, all thoughts of democratic elections were forgotten. The joy of the People's victory turned to ashen despair. It took about two days for the news to spread that the only settlement to be spared on the Day of Death was the Grandmaster's household. Every one of his friends, children, and servants had survived. So had all of his children's puppies and kittens.

As reports from other worlds trickled in, it became clear this was a miracle. The Grandmaster had _saved_ those closest to him. It was the only explanation.

Within the week, Sakaar had scrapped the idea of democracy in favor of a much simpler and, under the current circumstances, logical mode of government: theocracy. They had found their one true god, a capricious god perhaps, but one with incredible power to save or destroy as he willed.

The truth was much simpler as far as the bemused Grandmaster was concerned. It would have been very inconvenient for him if any of his bosom companions, trusty servants, or darling babies died when he did not wish them too. He hated inconvenience and avoided it like the plague. Therefore when he noticed the massive death spell radiating out from some distant, fully-powered Infinity Gauntlet, he encouraged it _not_ to inconvenience him, and the magic willingly obliged. It was not a particularly impressive or even important feat in the Grandmaster's mind and barely interrupted his day, or even Story Time with his cute little orphans.

Still, the Grandmaster was only too happy to play along with every new ritual his people thought up to honor him in the weeks that followed. It was sweet, really, how hard they tried. It made him feel very well-disposed towards them, and Sakaar became a rather happy place for a good while as everyone catered to their Grandmaster with an earnestness they had never displayed previously.

He rained casual blessings upon each pilgrim to his house and received fabulous artworks, dances, and foods in return. It was only natural that the most beautiful of all the young people in Sakaar and even abroad presented themselves to him with the only goal of entering his service. It was only natural that the newly anointed high priest would think to organize ritual games for the pleasure of his god within a few short months of taking office. It was only natural that more, energetic young people would compete even to the death in said games for the glory of their god. On Sakaar afterall, spectacle was a form of worship, and post-revolutionary Sakaarians were nothing if not devout.

 **Author's note: The end. Sakaar comes full circle, because of** ** _course_** **everything just works out for the Grandmaster. It wouldn't occur to him or the Universe for things to end in any other way besides him winning everything back.**


	18. Epilogue 2

In the month following the Snap, Thor didn't really function. He felt as if he had fallen a great, great distance and then suddenly hit the ground again, with the colossal impact knocking all the strength from his body and spirit, completely breaking him. He had failed so badly it was difficult for him to comprehend it half the time. His body shook every time he thought about it. It felt as if _he_ was the one to kill the world, because he had let his arrogance get in the way... _again._ He never learned.

He was utterly grateful when Lady Sif showed up at the Avengers Tower looking for him. He had not even realized Loki had banished her to Earth, yet here she was collaborating with Shield on various projects. Now there were two Asgardians alive at least.

He was even more grateful when Sif received word of Asgardian _survivors_ who had apparently crashed to Earth along with the Hulk, caught up in Heimdall's last haphazard Bifrost. There were twenty in all, including Valkyrie and Korg incredibly, but those were the only two Thor had known personally. There would have been thirty, if Thor had killed Thanos when he had the chance and prevented the Snap. That thought was what kept the "king of Asgard" paralyzed in guilt, all authority abdicated to Sif and Valkyrie who between them managed the refugees rather well.

The survivor he hoped the most to see was Loki. If Loki was alive, he might feel in some small way redeemed, since Loki in the end had spent his own life saving Thor's. He did not want that sacrifice to be in vain...or on his conscience. Thor had proven himself to be perfectly useless, really. His life certainly wasn't worth his brother's.

It was hope that drew him out of isolation the moment he heard the Guardians' ship was landing, almost four weeks too late. When he arrived in the hangar to see two strange women helping a frail figure down the gangway, his spirit soared. When he recognized the arc reactor on the figure's chest, his elation was replaced by twin feelings of relief for his friend the Man of Iron and crippling fear for his brother. He stopped dead in his tracks, watching the scene unfold, afraid to learn the worst. Rocket had followed him, he noticed, the racoon equally worried about the ship's occupants, and equally disquieted to see the unfamiliar people walking towards them.

"Couldn't stop him," Tony muttered, as Captain America's strong arms took his weight. He looked terrible, Thor saw, thin and wasted.

"Neither could I," Steve said.

"I lost the kid," Tony said, voice raw with guilt.

"Tony, we lost," Steve said gently.

"Is, uh...?"

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" Tony's knees buckled as Lady Pepper ran to him. The relief on his face was indescribable and even warmed Thor slightly. Tony held his wife as she cried into his shoulder, Steve supporting both of them now.

"It's okay," Tony muttered, even though it wasn't.

Finally, Thor screwed up his courage and walked slowly forward past the tearful reunion to meet the strangers. One was a human woman, with an ineffable strength in her. She wasn't particularly tall, but she was blonde and reminded him strongly of Captain America except with a hint of severity and even brutality that Thor had never encountered in his friend. The other woman was an alien of a species he did not recognize, with skin the pure blue of a young Jotun but unmarred by tribal lines and with eyes black as ink instead of red. "Is there anyone else on board?" He finally asked them. The alien just stared at him, but the human softened.

"No. I'm sorry."

Just like that, Thor's hope was gone. He nodded wordlessly and just stood there as the women walked past him. He felt a small, fury hand grip his fingers and looked down at Rocket. His friend's eyes were huge and full of tears. "Rabbit," Thor whispered, and picked him up and hugged him like...a bunny. For once, the racoon had nothing snide to say and instead wrapped his own little arms around Thor's neck. Rocket had no one at all left, Thor remembered guiltily. After a moment, Thor loosened his grip, and Rocket climbed onto his shoulder. They walked onto the empty ship in silence.

There was Drax's weapons collection, gathering dust.

There was the Starlord's meagre attempt at a love letter, addressed to Gamora.

There were empty chairs at an empty table.

There was a pile of games Groot had picked up from somewhere and never had the chance to play.

There was an unmade bed in the medbay, unoccupied. Not even dust to mark where Thor's brother once lay.

Thor shrank to the floor and wept.

 **Author's note: "empty chairs at empty tables, where my friends will sing no more"...** ** _Les Miserables._** **You can interpret this chapter as you wish - did Loki like so many others vanish in the Snap? Or did it just shake him out of his spell, allowing him to sneak off the ship on Titan without Tony or Nebula noticing? Is the Grandmaster searching him out even now? Feel free to imagine what happens next or even write it (please tell me if you do!), but my story is over. Hope you enjoyed it.**


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